


Common Threads

by thornfield_girl



Series: Threads [3]
Category: Justified
Genre: Case Fic, Chickens, Cults, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Relationship Advice, Way More Chickens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornfield_girl/pseuds/thornfield_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loretta shows up, Raylan and Boyd try to find a way to help her, but she isn't telling them everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

"A rooster?" 

Raylan's staring at Boyd across the breakfast table, over plates of eggs and coarse brown bread. 

"Just on loan," Boyd explains, calmly spreading butter on his slice. "So we can breed some new hens and then maybe mark a few for eating. Wouldn't you just love a fry up? Dear sweet baby Jesus, my mouth is watering at the very thought."

Raylan is frowning at him in a most distressed way, his eggs seemingly abandoned, at least for the time being. "You want to eat one of our ladies," he accuses.

Boyd lifts his head and levels a stare at Raylan, this beautiful, surprising man who Boyd still hasn't entirely figured out after more than two years with him, and says, "They're chickens, Raylan. You love fried chicken."

The frown is still on his face, and Boyd is torn between the instinct to smooth his brow and comfort him, and the one that tells him to dig in his heels, to pretend he doesn't understand. To rile him up. 

Boyd makes a decision, and he says, "Don't worry, I wouldn't sacrifice your Princess. She's a good little layer, anyhow."

"That ain't- shut up. I don't like the idea of eating any of them, if I'm being honest."

And if Boyd's being honest, he can hardly take this conversation anymore. He just shakes his head and says, "Raylan, with only a few exceptions, I have never wanted to get on top of you more than I do right this minute."

"What?" Raylan says indignantly. "You are fucked up, son. Why would you be getting hot about discussing killing one of our chickens?"

"Oh my god, Raylan, shut up and get in the bedroom. I ain't playing, I want you _now._

Raylan looks almost alarmed, and Boyd doesn't mind that a bit, because he stands up anyway and meets Boyd halfway as they navigate the corners of the kitchen table.

"What is your deal, Boyd?" Raylan asks, as he nevertheless grabs at his hips and leans in close to his face. 

Boyd takes his mouth in a searing kiss and replies, "Nothing. Shut up. Let's go."

He pushes at Raylan so he moves, and starts stripping off his own clothes as they go. Raylan sits on the edge of the bed and starts working the buttons on his shirt, but Boyd is not having any of that. He tears the shirt open, not even caring about the, at least, three buttons that go flying. He can sew on a goddamn button if need be. 

Raylan is still staring at him with that wide-eyed, bewildered gaze, but his mouth is hanging open and his pupils are huge and black. "Pants," Boyd mutters. "Get 'em off." Raylan obeys quickly, and Boyd says, "Jesus Christ," more to himself than to Raylan. He pushes him down onto the bed, laying his full weight into him. 

He doesn't even know what he wants from Raylan right now. He just kisses him, and Raylan, despite his almost dazed response to Boyd's sudden desire, kisses back, and puts his hands in all the right places. They're so good at this now, Boyd is occasionally stunned by it. It couldn't have begun more awkwardly, and now look. 

"You want to fuck, Boyd?" Raylan asks suddenly. It's a Saturday and they have no plans until much later. "You want to fuck me?"

"Oh," Boyd says, "Well, no, I thought you might do the honors, darlin'," Boyd answers, realizing only now what it is he wants. He wants Raylan, with his ridiculous sentiment and his code (necessarily revised though it may be), and his gorgeous, pretty face, to fuck him, _hard_. "For real. Alright?"

"You bet," Raylan says breathily, all business now. 

Boyd knows how it goes with Raylan; however rough things start out, he's always careful. There was one time, early on, when they didn't have a clue as to what they were doing, and Boyd really did experience a lot of pain. Raylan had felt pretty bad about it after, and didn't really want to try again for some time. Even if Boyd asked him to leave off, to let it hurt a little, he was pretty sure the man would be incapable of it. 

That thought makes him smile involuntarily, and he just grins up at the ceiling as Raylan works him open with his tongue and his fingers, until there's too much pleasure to maintain it, and his mouth just hangs open. 

Raylan knows now, exactly what to do, and when, and he pulls himself up now, pushes in slowly, and waits. He stares down at Boyd and says, "Do it. Show me. When you get close, I promise I'll fuck you so hard you'll feel it in your fucking throat, Boyd."

"Fuck," Boyd chokes out, and takes himself in hand. He strokes his cock, starting out slow and staring back at Raylan, who is remaining perfectly still. His breath picks up, and his hand moves faster, almost of its own accord. "Fuck," he says again, "I love you, Raylan."

"I know," Raylan replies. "Tell me when you're gonna come, Boyd. Gimme like a thirty second lead time."

"Yeah," he pants, "Raylan, fuck. You're just so... God, I fuckin' love you."

"You keep sayin' 'fuck' and I can't be held responsible for my actions," he groans. He's trembling now, but still not thrusting. Boyd doesn't know how he's doing it. 

" _Fuck_ , fuck FUCK. _Please,_ Raylan."

"Not to mention how much you love me," he says, as if Boyd hadn't spoken. "You know how that gets me."

"Love you," Boyd says in a cracked whisper, "so much, an' I'm about to come so hard with you all up inside me."

"Oh god," Raylan says, and that's the end of it. He shoves in hard, and pulls out further than he might otherwise before ramming back in. He's barely established a rhythm before Boyd is shuddering under him, reaching up with his free hand to graze his lovely chest and stomach. Raylan lets go too, and they come in rapid succession, and it's fucking beautiful like it almost always is.

After Raylan pulls out and they've recovered their senses, he asks, "Now you gonna tell me what got you going like gangbusters?"

"Honestly, and I hate to even say this because your ego does not need it, but it was just you being Raylan. You and your... shit, I don't even know. Don't make me talk like this, huh? I hate it."

"Dear God," Raylan says, pulling Boyd in close, "I thought I had it bad."

"You do," Boyd says grumpily. "I'm the love of your goddamn life."

"You _are,_ " Raylan says with utter sincerity. 

They pass a few minutes in silence before Raylan asks, "We gonna work on the roof today before the girls come over?"

Boyd pulls away from him and props himself up on his arm. "You call the hens 'ladies,' and you call two full grown women who run a successful farm without the benefit of menfolk or electricity, 'girls'? What is wrong with you, boy?"

Raylan shrugs. "Just unenlightened, I suppose. You want to work on the roof or not?"

They work for a few hours, replacing a section at the back of the house, right over the bedroom Raylan occupied during the first couple months of his stay. It's the guest bedroom now, though mostly it's where they stow things they think they might want to use or trade at some point. Raylan always says it's going to end up looking exactly like it did when he arrived, stacked to the ceiling with useless shit they had ended up burning.

Nancy and Kathleen arrive around six, bearing gifts of baked goods. There's an apple cake and a jar of granola, studded with chopped up dried peaches. _Old hippies,_ Boyd thinks, biting back a laugh. They'll certainly eat it, anyway. 

"You know you don't have to bring us things, right?" Raylan says, as Boyd kisses them hello. "You don't think we invite you over just 'cause we can't bake for shit in that woodstove, do you?"

"Hush, boy," Nancy tells him. "Don't neither of us have kids of our own, so you two get to be it. You're welcome, by the way."

"Shit, Nancy. Thank you. Don't mind me, I'm an asshole. If you need corroboration for that, you won't have to look far and wide."

Boyd watches as she blinks at him, and her face softens, and she laughs as she says, "You got more'n your share, didn't you, boy?" Raylan shrugs innocently, and Boyd rolls his eyes. As if he doesn't know.

They have a bottle of bourbon - or what is purportedly bourbon, you can't always tell - that they've been holding back for tonight, and Raylan goes to fetch it. It's late September and still plenty warm enough to sit outside, so they head out back. 

Kathleen wanders down to the lower part of the yard where the coop is and casts a sharp eye over the little flock. Raylan comes out with the bottle and four glasses, pours, and carries his own and one for Kathleen down to where she's standing. 

Boyd settles back and raises his glass to Nancy. "How's that shower working out for you?" he asks. 

"So far, so good. Hoping the weather holds so's we can keep using it awhile. But it's a goddamn miracle after you been working in the field all day, tell you what."

Boyd nods and sips at his drink. "It was well worth it for them hens," he says. "Eggs when we want 'em, can't beat it. And Raylan-" He cuts himself off, because he's watching Raylan talk to Kathleen, gesturing at the chickens, and he doubts he can say anything about it without making her laugh at him. "Anyway, it's been real good."

She laughs anyway. "How in the world did it take so long for you and him to figure shit out?"

"Well," Boyd begins, then hesitates. The question is a complicated one, and one which makes him uncomfortable, because it feels like a bit of a betrayal of Ava. He loves Raylan, and part of him has always felt affectionate towards him, and attracted to him, but it wasn't this, before. 

He starts again. "We had different goals in life. And you know, we both spent a good deal of time in love with other people, during the time after he came back to Kentucky. And then there was that whole adversary thing, which was inconvenient to say the least. Our thing... it's like some kind of special plant that can only grow in one place, under very specific conditions. And it's the prettiest goddamn thing you ever saw, but you can't just stick it in any old pot on any old windowsill and expect it to thrive."

She stares at him during this speech, waits a few seconds, then practically spits, "Bullshit."

"Pardon me?"

"Boyd Crowder, what is wrong with you? You been loving that boy forever and a day. He left for twenty goddamn years, he shot you, put you in prison, and here you are, still loving him. You think this can't withstand a little change in climate?"

Boyd still has his eyes on Raylan, and he says, "Raylan is good at ignoring things. He's good at forgetting. He came to stay because he needed me, but also because I needed him. If we don't, no more, well I can't say what might happen."

At that moment, Raylan laughs at something Kathleen says, then he turns to look straight at Boyd with a huge, open smile on his face. 

"Bull. Shit," Nancy says again. She doesn't expand on that sentiment though, because Raylan and Kathleen are heading towards them. 

"Boyd!" Kathleen looks enthusiastic. "The hens look terrific. You've been taking great care of them."

"Oh," Boyd smiles, "Raylan might be out here even more than me. I think he's in love."

"I did notice that little phoenix is plumping up real nice," she says, winking. 

Raylan grins. "I told her you think I got a crush on the princess."

Boyd smiles at him, glancing over real quick at Nancy. Maybe she's right. And maybe it'll never get put to the test anyway. 

They discuss the details of the rooster loan over drinks, with Boyd agreeing to do a few repairs on their barn in exchange. Raylan is slightly grumpy, but offers no protests.

Dinner is simple - stew and bread - but a little bit special because Raylan had gotten some pork loin from Limehouse to put in it. Neither of them have become particularly good at cooking on butane and wood stoves, probably because neither of them was very good at cooking in the first place. 

They have the apple cake for dessert, and Kathleen tells them about a rumor she heard from a day worker who had passed through two weeks earlier, from Tennessee.

"Seems they tested a grid over in the Smokies. Turned the power on for about three hundred people, give or take. They had some issues, of course, but mostly sort of expected ones, and they expect to get them worked out in the next couple months."

"Why there?" Raylan asks, leaning forward, "Why not in Lexington or Nashville or something?"

"I expect they want to start small," Boyd puts in. "Figure out the problems before bringing it wider." He knows he should be excited about this, and part of him is, but the conversation with Nancy is in his head, and he's worried too.

When they leave, Nancy hugs him goodbye, and whispers in his ear, "Tell him what you're thinkin' about. What do you think he's there for, dumbass? Besides the obvious." Boyd just shakes his head like she's the one being ridiculous.

He doesn't say anything to Raylan about it that night, just takes him to bed, sucks his dick and tells him he loves him, like always. Raylan mumbles the same before they fall asleep.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loretta shows up with a story to tell.

He picks up the rooster the next day, and the hens all seem pretty excited about it. He's not very big, but he takes charge like he's been there all along. Boyd is already calling him Raylan in his head by the end of the day.

Nearly a week later, Boyd is out back working on their rainwater collection system when he hears a car pull up in front of the house. It's well past lunchtime, so he's not coming home for that as he sometimes does, but normally he wouldn't be back until around five. He tries to keep regular hours, old world hours, which Boyd likes to tease him about, asking him if he's going to stop off for happy hour before he heads home. 

He walks through the house, stopping to dry his hands on a towel in the kitchen, and a knock comes at the front door. Not Raylan, then.

He opens it to find a young girl, maybe 17 or 18, and a boy a bit older, perhaps, with greasy, dark blonde hair, a protective arm around her shoulders. Her face is expectant at first, but quickly falls, turns frightened as her eyes flick over the partially-revealed swastika on his shoulder. He still covers it up most of the time, but not around the house when he's working, and most people around Harlan know the deal with him anyway. 

"I'm sorry," she says, "I must have the wrong house. I was looking for, uh-"

"Raylan Givens?" Boyd asks, doing his best to look unthreatening, schooling his expression into a friendly smile. "This is the right house, but he ain't here now. He's at the police station. You need directions?"

That gets a reaction from both of them, their attitudes stiffening up, and the boy says to her, "Maybe this isn't the best idea."

Boyd frowns. He says, "Raylan will be back in a couple hours, but you want I can drive over and tell him you want him. Or you can wait for him. I'm Boyd Crowder." 

He holds out his hand to the boy, to shake, and he hesitantly takes it. Boyd considers shaking the girl's hand too, but he doesn't want to provoke the young man, and it's hard to tell what might do that, just yet. 

"I'm Loretta," she says. "I've heard your name before." It doesn't seem like that's reassuring to her, which Boyd can certainly understand. 

"Loretta McCready?" Boyd's smile gets bigger. "Raylan's mentioned you. And I knew your daddy from the mine."

She nods, relaxing almost imperceptibly, but seems to be struggling with the decision of what to do now. She glances at the house, then back at Boyd, but he notices that she doesn't look to the boy for input. She asks, "What did Raylan tell you about me?"

"I know what happened with the Bennetts." He'd known the basics of that without Raylan having to tell him. "Raylan said you were staying with a family in Lexington. He said he looked for you after the grid went down, but you'd already taken off."

She digests that information for a second, then says, "I went to the Marshals office about a year ago and they told me he was in Harlan."

"A year ago, huh? So why are you only coming around now, honey?"

Her chin juts out proudly, and she answers, "We were doin' okay. I didn't need help. But... now I do. I thought maybe..."

Boyd reaches out and touches her arm, having sussed out who was in charge of the relationship, here. The boy starts, but says nothing, just grips her shoulder a little tighter. "I am certain that Raylan will want to help. Now, you are both welcome to come in. I got food, if you're hungry."

She hesitates, again, and Boyd sighs. "Look, I'm sorry about that." He gestures at his arm. He almost never apologizes for it, but he doesn't want her to be afraid of him. "That's old business, not relevant now, but I can't do nothin' about it. What I can do is make you up a plate of eggs and let you rest while you wait for him."

She nods, and says, "Alright, then." She motions with her head at the boy, and they follow Boyd into the house. 

He fixes them some food and asks polite questions about where they've been and how things are in those places. They'd been in a few places, Virginia the last, but they'd had to move on. The boy - whose name is Chris - frowns hard at her at this point. She nods and doesn't say anything else about it. 

Boyd is pretty sure she wants to ask about him, who he is to Raylan, why they're living together, but she doesn't. He's not sure how to give her the information, either, although he wouldn't mind her knowing. She will eventually, anyway. 

After they eat, Boyd leaves them alone and goes back to the job he'd been doing when they arrived. When he hears Raylan pull up, he jogs around to the front of the house to let him know what's going on. 

"Hey," Raylan says as he approaches. "We got company?" He's looking at the little car the couple had arrived in. 

"We do. Loretta McCready and some boy."

Raylan's face is blank with shock for a second, then he sort of smiles. "Yeah? She okay?"

"Seems it," Boyd says carefully, "but I think she's in some sort of trouble. Wouldn't tell me nothin', not that I'd expect her to."

Raylan nods. "She know who you are?"

Boyd smirks and replies, "Well, I did introduce myself, Raylan. I wasn't raised by wolves."

"I mean, who you are to me," he says, rolling his eyes. 

"I didn't get into it," Boyd says. "Her wheels are turning, I could tell, but she didn't ask."

"Okay. Hello, by the way." He leans close and kisses Boyd perfunctorily on the lips. Boyd quirks a smile at him, because that's not really something they do, normally. 

"What's that for? In case she's watching, so you don't have to explain nothing?"

Raylan's head rears back a little, and he gives him a confused look. "No," he says, "I just felt like it. Alright? Jesus." 

"Yeah, alright," Boyd says. Everything's felt a little off between them ever since Nancy and Kathleen came over the week before. 

They go inside, where Loretta and Chris are sitting on the living room sofa, talking quietly. Loretta looks up and gives Raylan the sweetest look Boyd has ever seen. It's not a smile at all. It's almost exasperated, though Boyd is not sure what that emotion is for. For Raylan not being there when she arrived? For herself, because she finds herself needing his help? 

"Hello, Loretta," Raylan says, smiling at her softly.

"Hey, Raylan," she says in an equally quiet way. "Your friend Boyd said it was okay we waited here."

"Well of course," Raylan says. "It's his house anyway, so he gets to say." 

"It's our house," Boyd says.

"Right," Raylan agrees. "It's our house. And Boyd's not just my friend. We're together. Okay?"

She shrugs. "Okay. Whatever." 

"Great," Raylan says, obviously much more uncomfortable than she is about the conversation. He sits down on the love seat next to the sofa and says, "Loretta, honey, I'm real happy to see you. But I gotta ask why you're here. You and your friend..."

"Chris," she interjects. "And he ain't just my friend either."

Raylan smiles at that. "Okay," he says, "Chris. Nice to meet you," he says, nodding at the boy. "I'm Raylan Givens, Sheriff of Harlan County now. I used to be a Deputy U.S. Marshal, which is how I happened to make Miss Loretta's acquaintance. But I quit that about two years back." He looks back at Loretta now, gazing at her pretty intensely. "You in trouble?" 

She frowns, obviously having some kind of internal struggle. She opens her mouth to speak, looks at Raylan's face, and closes it again. Boyd has an idea what the problem might be.

"Loretta," Boyd says, rolling the name on his tongue just like he does Raylan's, giving it the treatment, "We haven't had a chance to talk much, but I think you recall seeing something that disturbed you when you first got here." Boyd had put a button down shirt on over his t-shirt before making their eggs, and he still had it on.

"The Nazi tattoo, uh huh. That's messed up, especially for a gay guy."

"Yes, well," Boyd says, looking at her intently, "what I'm trying to say is, we all make mistakes. And Raylan, he's someone who can understand that. He's made a few of his own. He even shot me one time."

Loretta stares at him with big eyes. "Why?"

"'Cause I was an asshole," Boyd says, laughing. "I pulled."

"He did," Raylan says, nodding and smiling crookedly. "I put him down."

Boyd smiles like Raylan's talking about their first date, and Loretta and Chris, both, are looking between them like they're insane. 

"Point is," Raylan puts in, "things are different now. You can tell me what happened, and I'm gonna believe you, because I know you. And then I'm going to help you. Because I like you. That's how things stand these days."

She nods, like he's just confirmed something she already thought, then launches into a long story about some people they met in Charleston, West Virginia about nine months ago. There had been several girls and one other boy besides Chris, one of whom was apparently very charismatic. Loretta just said he was cute and a good talker. 

"Daniel. He was sleeping with all the girls," Chris says, and Raylan looks just as surprised to finally hear him speak up as Boyd feels. "Except Loretta." Boyd is pretty sure he sees Loretta's eyes slide sideways for a moment, but that ain't any of his business.

Daniel had talked up this plan, moving through towns and finding out who had the power, who was corrupt and keeping everything to himself, and robbing them. Daniel said it was like Robin Hood, and Boyd can't say he disagrees. He can't help thinking, if he'd been in charge he would have just brought down whoever was in power, and taken it for himself. Not quite the same thing.

"So, we moved through the northern part of West Virginia, and into, um," she looks at Chris like she can't remember.

"Western Maryland," he says. And then south, to Virginia. We skirted DC, it's supposed to be crazy scary there."

"Plan was to head down to North Carolina next," Loretta says, picking up the narrative, "but then... something bad happened." She looks over at Chris again and they lock eyes. 

Chris reaches out and takes her hand under the table. Boyd allows a slight smile. They're pretty cute together, even if the boy is completely whipped. 

Chris speaks, and it's apparent he's trying to keep his voice steady. "The last town we were in, this place called Elk Creek, there was a group who had formed this sort of community on the outskirts of the town. They were... they were weird, I don't know. It was like, a religious thing, I guess, but not like regular Christians, and not even like those tent revival people you see sometimes. They had their own rules and all, and they would just grab any girl they pleased. Boys too, sometimes, at least that's what we heard." 

He glances up uncomfortably for a split second and says, "I mean, not that I care about that, it's just, no one had a choice. And they kept all the food and gas. People had to turn over their ration books to them, and they'd dole stuff out according to whatever rules they'd set for themselves. And they had drugs too, stuff like Oxy and heroin that they somehow had what seemed like an endless supply of, that they'd hand out with the food. And the people would have to take it in front of them. So they'd be docile, like. And enslaved."

"Jesus," Raylan murmurs, a complicated frown on his face. 

"I thought we should just get the hell out as quick as possible," Loretta says. "We all did, actually. But Daniel said we had to hit them, because they were evil. And they were, you know, they were the worst ones we'd ever seen, by far. So we did. And we would've gotten away with it, with no one knowing anything, but Daniel... it was crazy, what he did. It was..."

She breaks off, on the verge of tears for the first time since she'd arrived. When she continues, her voice is a little weak, but steady. "We had all this stuff of theirs, gas, food, vouchers. Not the drugs, though, they kept that where they slept. And Daniel said we had to get that, because it was how they stayed in power. The rest of us said no way, that's too dangerous, we have to leave, but eventually he convinced one of the guys, Mike, to help."

"He shamed him into it," Chris added, "in front of the girls. He- he thought he was doing the right thing, but I don't think he's that different from those guys running that... cult, or whatever, on the inside."

Loretta nods, then goes on. "Daniel and Mike broke into the house, they all lived together, like it was a palace, or a fort, instead of some old farmhouse. We heard a bunch of gunfire, and we took off. The others who didn't go in, they wanted to wait for them to come back out, but we ran. We knew we would've just gotten killed. They stayed with the truck, we took the car and a few cans of the gas we stole, and left."

Raylan reaches across the table and takes up her hand with two of his. "I'm so glad you did that. It was the smart play. The only play, far as I'm concerned." He looks at Chris and says, "Looks like the two of you are taking care of each other. That's good. You need that. You can stay here, but you can't hide forever. I'll look into what actually went down in Elk Creek, and then we'll figure out where to go from there."

They have dinner, and Raylan tells them a little about his time in Lexington, and how he came to be in Harlan - edited to gloss over some pretty terrible stuff, but giving them the basic outline. Loretta is not the fourteen year old kid that Raylan first met years before, and he affords her the respect that her experiences warrant. Boyd likes that, because it shows some of the ways Raylan has changed. He never would have done that, if he was the same man he was before.

Boyd chimes in as they start to talk about Harlan, and how things are around here now. He listens close to the way Raylan talks about it, watches his face, and sees the way he lights up a little with something like pride, maybe, or at least satisfaction. He can see the affection he has for the people who have become their friends and neighbors, which somehow feels more reassuring than the affection he knows Raylan has for him. 

It's late when they finally get to bed, and they're both too tired to fool around. He moves in close to kiss him goodnight, and Raylan holds on to him a little longer than he might normally.

"Boyd," he says, "what's up? Something is, right?"

"I don't know what you mean," Boyd replies, and he's immediately pissed off at himself for saying that.

"Really? So you haven't been acting weird all week? It's just my wild imagination? Yeah, that sounds like me."

Boyd sighs lightly and shifts away from him. "Raylan, it's nothing. Not- nothing you did, alright?"

Raylan sits up in bed and looks at Boyd, his eyes just visible in the moonlight. "I know it's nothing I did, because I didn't do a goddamn thing. So why don't you just tell me what the hell it is so we can get back to normal?"

Boyd takes a deep breath. He knows very well that this is going to sound pathetic, and he lets it out in a rush of words, laying back on the pillow with a hand to his forehead. "I'm afraid of what's gonna happen when the power comes back, and the government, and the law, and the fucking Wal-Mart. If we don't have to scrounge and barter no more. If people start acting and thinking the way they used to again. That it's gonna fuck everything up between you and me."

"What..." Raylan makes a noise that sounds both confused and frustrated, runs a hand through his hair. "Why do you think I'm here, Boyd? Because I have to be?"

"No," Boyd says quietly. "I know that ain't it. That's the thing, Raylan. I know you love me, you tell me all the time. But... you only came here because things were awful for you, and for me. It was a last ditch grab at some kind of happiness, right? But when there are more options, I don't know if-"

"Is that how you still think of it?" Raylan's voice is slightly raised, though he's obviously trying to keep it down. "Is that how you think it's going to be for you? Because that's the only explanation I can think of for you to be worrying about this. It ain't that way from my end, and I don't know how I could possibly have given you the impression that it is."

"Raylan-" Boyd is reaching out for him, pulling at his arm, but Raylan shakes him off.

"I don't have those kind of doubts anymore. Not for some time. I'm sorry you do." He lies down again, turning away and pulling the covers up over him.

 _Oh for fuck's sake,_ Boyd thinks. "Raylan, don't be that way, come on. Nancy said it's your job to listen to my fears and insecurities."

There's a long pause, then Raylan says, "Did she, now."

"She did. She also told me some other things, most of which added up to 'stop being a fuckin' idiot.'" 

"I see. But you only chose to follow the one part of her advice, I guess."

Boyd pulls at Raylan's shoulder until he rolls onto his back and looks up at him. "I'm just afraid to lose you. I can't lose anyone else."

Raylan softens then, gives him a helpless look, because he knows he can't stay mad after that. "Boyd, listen to me, please. Whatever the reason, whatever the circumstances that brought us here, the point is we're here. We're home. I ain't going anywhere. I promise."

"You can't really promise that."

"Well, I am anyway." Raylan grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him down for a kiss. "Now, I really am tired. But if you require some sort of proof of affection, I could probably manage a hand job."

Boyd laughs and shakes his head. "Asshole."

"No shit," Raylan says, and turns over again, this time dragging Boyd's arm around him.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan and Boyd get a little more information about Elk Creek.

The next day is Sunday, and Boyd wakes up to find Raylan's side of the bed empty. That is disappointing, because they didn't get to screw the night before, and he was hoping for some half-asleep morning sex, which in his opinion is underrated. And also, a good recommendation for sleeping with men, because all of the women he'd ever been with wanted to brush their teeth and fix their fucking hair before getting to it. Raylan's hair looks best of all before he rolls out of bed, anyway, in Boyd's considered opinion. 

He's just about to get up and find him, when Raylan comes sneaking back in, freezing with a guilty look on his face when he sees Boyd awake. "Sorry. Woke up early and couldn't fall back, so I thought I'd feed the chickens and get back here in time to wake you up in style."

"Well shit, Raylan. You can't say something like that and not expect my dick to get hard. Get your ass back in bed."

Raylan quickly strips off the flannel pants and wife beater he'd thrown on to walk out to the yard, and climbs back in bed, enthusiastically crawling on top of Boyd. His hair still looks pretty good, but Boyd reaches up and musses his hand through it anyway. 

"I love your bedhead, Raylan. Did I ever tell you?"

"Yep," Raylan says, kissing him and reaching for his dick. He lowers his head and kisses Boyd on his neck and his shoulders, licking a wide, wet stripe up his bicep, over the swastika. He does that a lot, and Boyd thought it was kind of disturbing at first. He'd asked him why, and Raylan had winked at him and said eventually he'd wash it off. It would just take awhile. After that, Boyd stopped asking, because, weird as it was, if Raylan got off on it, he didn't care. He was the one who got the fucking thing in the first place, so who was he to judge?

Raylan's hand is moving smooth and steady over him, and he shifts down to suck on his nipple. _Christ,_ he thinks, _this ain't gonna last long at all,_ and he moans Raylan's name. 

"That's me," Raylan murmurs low into his ear. "Raylan Givens at your service. Or you can call me Sheriff," he adds, his lips curling into a smile against the side of Boyd's face.

"Raylan," he says again, running fingers into his hair and gripping it firmly. "What else are you, besides Sheriff?" 

Raylan strokes him faster, squeezing lightly, and says, "I'm a... former Deputy U.S. Marshal. Former coal miner. Harlan boy." He pauses, leans in real close, and whispers, "Boyd Crowder's man." 

Boyd groans and wonders how Raylan knew that's what he wanted. His hand is still tangled in Raylan's hair and he uses it to pull his face down into his neck, coming as he feels Raylan's lips make contact with his ear. 

He rolls Raylan over real quick and crawls between his legs, sucking him off and reaching up to put a hand over his mouth just before he comes, in case he forgot they have company. 

When Raylan finishes, and Boyd has flopped down next to him, he says, "You're the one who was so unconcerned about noise last time. Why the big turnaround?"

"There's a difference between a grown man and a teenage girl, Raylan."

"You're telling me," Raylan says, grinning. "Way better blow j-"

"Raylan!"

Raylan is laughing though, and has propped himself on his elbow to look down at Boyd. When his laughter tapers off, he's still smiling, but it changes a bit, turns into something that Boyd can hardly stand to look at, it's that sincere. 

"And what are you, Boyd?" Raylan asks. 

Boyd closes his eyes for a moment to get away from that gaze. He leaves them closed as he answers him. "I'm yours too, Raylan." He opens them and looks at him. "Your man. Your fella. Alright?"

"Even if the streetlights come back on?"

Boyd makes a dismissive sound and says, "Ain't no streetlights out here, son." 

"Guess we're okay, then." Raylan kisses him and sits up. "I'm thinking about what I should do to look into this Virginia business. I looked at a map, and that town is a good distance away. And if it's as bad as they said, I don't want to just go charging in."

Boyd bugs his eyes out at him and says, "What have you done with Raylan?"

"The comedy never stops with you," Raylan says mildly. "Seriously, though. What do you think? Should I drive out and talk to the Lee County Sheriff, see if he knows something? I don't know him, but Mason talked to him during the gas man business."

Boyd gets out of bed and hunts around for something to wear. As he pulls yesterday's jeans off the floor and slides them on, he says, "Why not wait and see who's around at the swap? Maybe someone's heard something."

Raylan nods slowly, like he's giving it some thought. "That's a good idea. It's not like it's a big rush, really. She's safe with us for now."

"Raylan," Boyd starts, then hesitates.

"What?" 

"Well... she's a nice kid. And he seems to be decent too. But what if... What if they're not telling you everything? What if they're more involved than they let on? If they were in that house, say."

Raylan frowns. "I believe her. You don't?"

"I'm just saying what if. You still gonna protect her?"

"Well... yeah. You okay with that?" 

Boyd gives him a big, wide smile and shakes his head in wonder. "You're the pod person, Raylan, not me. I'm still Boyd Crowder."

"Outlaw," Raylan says, smirking.

"Among other things," Boyd replies, lifting his head proudly. 

He doesn't add that the other things are chicken keeper, amateur photographer, distiller, and enthusiastic cocksucker, because Raylan already knows all that, and he's already laughing anyway. 

"Come on, Jesse James, let's go to market."

Loretta and Chris stay at the house, since they're trying to keep a low profile for the moment. The Harlan swap meet is a fairly large event by now, and people sometimes come from a good distance. 

After the murders of four young women over the summer, and Raylan's apprehension of the culprit, the town drew a decent amount of attention from people in the surrounding counties, looking for gossip and titillating details about the murders, about Carl, about the gay Sheriff and his outlaw boyfriend. However, even after the excitement wore off, many people kept coming back to the swap, because it was the largest and best in their part of eastern Kentucky. 

Even Pete Mason, the Sheriff of Bell County who had worked with Raylan on the murders, came to a meet a few weeks after that investigation wrapped up. His wife, apparently, had heard good things about it, and nagged him until he caved. 

As it turns out, the couple is there this morning, the Sheriff standing by patiently as his wife - a tiny, wiry whip of a woman with black hair, shot through with white, and a twangy Oklahoma accent - haggles over a pound of flour. 

Raylan and Boyd set up the moonshine and eggs they'd brought, and Raylan said he was going buy a muffin from the baked goods table. "You want one?" he asks. 

"Sure," Boyd says, "and see what Annie wants for that copper pipe. I'm thinking of expanding the still, trying a few new things. I was thinking of trying to find a barrel and actually age some."

Raylan looks at him with an expression that's indulgent enough to piss him off. Maybe Raylan sees the look on his face, because he quickly says, "Can't wait. Really," and reaches out to squeeze his shoulder before heading off under one of the tents covering the tables full of wares. 

Boyd chats with a few people as they come through, trades for some new nails and a bag of lye for the outhouse. Eventually, Nancy wanders over and leans against the side of the truck bed, fixing him with a piercing stare. 

"You get your shit handled, Boyd?" she asks sternly.

"Goddamn, woman, you are nosy. I'm fine."

She raises a skeptical eyebrow at him and says nothing, until he eventually huffs and says, "I told him all that weak bullshit I was worried about, alright?"

"Good boy. Let me guess, he got all pissed off at you."

"Well if you knew he'd do that, then why did you tell me to talk to him?"

She rolls her eyes and says, "This is the reason I'm always shocked when men last in a relationship together for more than a month. Y'all can't deal with emotional conflict. So the hell what if he got mad? You feel better, right?"

"Yeah." Boyd's mouth was pursed in annoyance. "Just because we don't choose to talk every little fuckin' thing to death don't mean we can't deal with conflict, by the way. Some things ain't worth it."

Nancy nods. "A fair point. But some things are. And speaking of things that are probably worth it, here comes God's gift to humanity right now."

Raylan comes sauntering up the little rise to where the truck is parked, two muffins held in one hand as he tips his hat to Nancy. 

"Gawd," she says, and Boyd laughs. Raylan is ridiculous. 

Raylan sits on the edge of the truck bed, next to where Boyd is sitting. "You want blueberry or carrot apple?"

Boyd looks at him like he's nuts and says, "Blueberry." 

Raylan shrugs and hands it to him. "Nancy," he says, "you heard anyone talking about some nasty business in Virginia, Elk Creek maybe?"

She frowns and says, "I heard there was some kinda shoot out, but I don't know nothing specific. You know who you ought to talk to, Jamie Reichert. He's got kin in Virginia, and I know he makes the drive sometimes."

"Is he here? I don't think I know him."

"I ain't seen him, but Boyd'll know him," she says.

Boyd is nodding with a mouthful of blueberry muffin. "Worked in the mine, last time I was down there. He's alright. If we don't see him today, I think he's still mining coal, we can find him there."

Boyd looks up to see a middle-aged, clearly formerly obese man walking towards them, panting a little. "Here comes Chief Wiggum," he mutters.

Raylan snorts. "Mind your manners," he says, "I gotta maintain a working relationship."

"Givens!" he says, clearly relieved to have found a familiar face. 

"How's it going, Mason?" Raylan reaches out to shake his hand.

"Not bad," he replies, still catching his breath, "though I can't say I'm a man who enjoys shopping as a weekend leisure activity. Maybe that's more your thing." He cackles at his little joke.

Raylan glances down at his hand and smiles back up at him. "Maybe, but you're the one holding a purse, man." 

Mason scowls, but quickly laughs and says, "My wife's," as if Raylan might think he's a crossdresser.

"Hey, whatever, Mason. I don't judge," Raylan says mildly. Nancy laughs in her disconcertingly girlish way, and Raylan seems to remember his own manners. "Mason, this is Nancy Brooks, she's half-owner of this farm. Nancy, Sheriff Pete Mason from Pineville. And you remember Boyd, of course."

"Yes indeed," he says, nodding at Boyd, politely enough, then looking at Nancy. "Nice to meet you, ma'am. Pete's fine, by the way."

"Now I got you here, Mason, I wanted to ask you about something. Back in July, you were out in Lee County talking to the Sheriff there, right?"

"Yessir," Mason says, "Branson is his name."

"What's the statie situation in Virginia look like? They got a presence in the towns at all?"

Mason thinks a minute, then says, "Well, you know they're headquartered in Richmond, and that state's way bigger than it ought to be, in my opinion. I ain't sure how thick on the ground they are that far west, but if Kentucky's anything to judge by, not very."

"I heard something went down in Elk Creek, a week or so ago. And that there might've been some weird shit going on for awhile before that. You heard anything?"

Mason grimaces and says, "Yeah, I mighta done. Just whispers, you know, rumors, some kind of cult maybe."

"Alright," Raylan says, "do me a favor, keep an ear out. You hear anything, you send word."

"What's this about?" Mason narrows his eyes at him.

Raylan looks like he's considering his options, then says, "A kid from Harlan, a girl I helped out of a jam once some years back, was through there recently. She had some stories to tell, and I'm trying to get a clearer picture."

Mason nods, and says, "Well, I don't know much. But what I've heard is disturbing. Was the girl living there?"

"I don't think so. Just passin' through. But she knew a couple of people, might've gotten mixed up in something with that group, so I told her I'd try to find out what happened."

Nancy is watching them with sharp eyes, obviously listening to everything. Boyd says to her, "Come by later if you want," and she nods. 

Mason's wife is heading over, her cloth bag bulging with loot. Raylan tips his hat to her and starts to make introductions, but she cuts him off. Turns out, she and Nancy knew each other in high school, and they had already had a long chat the first time the Masons made the trip to the Harlan swap.

They take their leave, with Raylan first extracting a promise from the Sheriff that he'll keep his ears open. 

Raylan hangs around the truck, saying hey to people but letting Boyd do most of the chatting and all of the selling. Still, Boyd thinks having Raylan there in the first place is a bit of a selling point. Despite what an asshole he can be, people naturally love him. They want to be around him. If Boyd were an insecure man, this might bother him, but as it stands he just likes watching it. He feels a weird sense of pride at times, not because he's the one who got Raylan, but because he's the one who brought him back here, where he was needed.

After awhile, Boyd wanders over to the tent and makes a deal for the copper pipe, then picks up some food for the week. When he gets back to the truck, Raylan is in close conversation with a guy in a John Deere cap, who is familiar, but Boyd can't recall his name. They both look up as he approaches.

"Hey Boyd," the good old boy says, "Been awhile." He holds a hand out to shake, and Boyd takes it, searching for a name.

"How you been, man?" Boyd asks, and he can see Raylan smirking. 

It's rare for Raylan to be the one to have the upper hand in a situation like this, and Boyd gets that little prickle of pride again. Raylan knows people, he's at home in Harlan, and that's fucking beautiful.

"Not too bad," he says, "but I was just telling the Sheriff here that town in Virginia, best to just steer clear of that shit."

"Oh?" 

"Yeah," Raylan says, "Charlie says he heard some disturbing shit, though he won't say directly what exactly it was he heard."

 _Charlie,_ Boyd thinks, _right._ He looks a thank you at Raylan and says, "What sort of things, Charlie?"

Charlie looks pretty uncomfortable, and his eyes dart around. He says, "Sex stuff. Orgies. All kinds of crazy shit." He hesitates, and Boyd hopes very much the man is not about to say "no offense" to him and Raylan. "I only heard, I never been there," he adds. 

They get basically the same rumors and warnings from a few other people, but no one seems to have anything more than second or third-hand information. 

When things start to break up, around mid-day, they start getting everything packed up and secured, and Raylan seems pretty distracted. Boyd keeps his mouth shut, because he knows Raylan is just worried, and pestering him about it won't do a thing. 

They arrive back at the cabin to find Loretta and Chris mulching the small, admittedly neglected, patch where they'd been growing some tomatoes and peppers over the summer. It had been kind of a bust, yielding only a few stunted specimens. They had turned over and pulled soil from the compost pile that Raylan and Boyd don't normally give much thought to, other than to dump their scraps into. 

Chris looks up from his work with a grin when he notices them, but Loretta just looks disapproving and a little defensive. 

"Y'all don't take very good care of your garden," she says. 

Boyd smiles at her and says, "No, we do not. I wasn't sure I was gonna bother again next year, since we didn't get much out of it. The soil ain't that good here."

She rolls her eyes and says, "Well, it just takes a little extra effort, is all. Tomatoes ain't much harder to grow than good weed, you know."

Chris looks slightly alarmed at this admission, but Raylan laughs. "Maybe we should put in some of that too, Boyd. Make it a proper Harlan household. Chickens, weed and moonshine, what else could we possibly need?"

Boyd grins at him, and Raylan winks - fucking _winks_ \- back. "Anyhow," Boyd says, dragging his eyes away, "We gotta figure out what to make for supper. There's four of us, plus Nancy and maybe Kathleen. I hate to just make soup again, but for six people, I don't know."

"Who are they?" Loretta asks. "Why are they coming over?" She looks vaguely anxious.

"Just some friends of ours, honey," Raylan tells her. "They're real nice ladies who've helped us out in the past. You can trust them."

"Well," Loretta says slowly, "I can cook. Did you bring some food back from that swap meet?"

"You don't have to earn your keep, darlin'," Boyd says. "You're a guest."

Loretta blushes and looks down, but her face is both stubborn and serious, and she says, "I don't know how long we're staying here, but I want to pitch in. I ain't a charity case. I used to cook for my daddy all the time, and I cooked in my foster home too. Since we been on the road, I ain't had too much of a chance for real cooking, but I remember how."

"Alright, then," Boyd says, and when he looks over at Raylan, he nods. "Whatever you come up with, I'm sure it'll be better than what me or Raylan could do."

By the time Nancy and Kathleen are due to arrive, the house smells better than Boyd can remember it smelling since he moved in here. Loretta won't let any of the three men into the kitchen, but she seems to know what she's doing. He grabs a jar of shine from the cellar and holds it up to Raylan with raised eyebrows. 

"Sure," Raylan says. "Care to join us, Chris? If you want a glass, you'll have to brave the kitchen, but we don't mind passin' the jar if you don't."

"You kidding me?" the boy says, eyes wide. "I'm not going in there. I'd like to stay in her good graces."

"Smart man," Boyd says, grinning at him. "Let's sit out back."

They sit in lawn chairs and pass the shine around, Chris making a concerted, but ultimately failed effort not to choke on it. "I'm not from around here," he says, "I never tried this stuff until a few months ago. It's kind of intense."

"That it is," Raylan says. "I came back after twenty years and had some, and it felt like the first time."

Boyd chuckles and adds, "You shoulda seen him. He might as well have been from New York City. Speaking of that, where is it you hail from, son?"

"All over," Chris says. "I was an Army brat. I've lived in California, Maryland, Florida and Texas. I had just started at UK when everything went down."

"And you met Loretta... when?" Raylan asks, pinning the kid with a stare that's not exactly hostile, but not entirely friendly either.

"About a year ago. She was hanging around Daniel and those others already. I sort of knew one of the other guys from school, so I started talking to them, and I thought she was so different from most of the girls I've known. She's so, like, real."

Boyd smiles at that, because it sounds ridiculous, but he's also sure it's probably the truth. Loretta is a Harlan girl, tough and sensible. That was obvious after about the first five minutes of making her acquaintance. 

"So, uh, you said you left for twenty years?" Chris is looking at Raylan, all polite curiosity, but Boyd knows a topic change when he hears one.

"I did," Raylan says, smiling wryly at the boy's effort. "I went away to school, then joined the Marshal service, which is what brought me, eventually, back to Kentucky. I lived in both Texas and Florida too. Austin and Miami."

"Dallas-Ft. Worth and Tampa," Chris says. "But, so, did you know each other when you both lived here as kids?"

"We did. We were friends when we were teenagers. Especially after we started digging coal. But we weren't a couple then, if that's what you were going to ask next. And then we had some issues when I came back, so we weren't even friends."

"That's a matter of some dispute," Boyd puts in, knowing exactly what he's going to hear. Raylan doesn't disappoint.

"When are you gonna give that shit up? Jesus fucking Christ, all the terrible shit we did and said to each other, that ain't what you do to a friend, Boyd. We're friends now, though. I been here for what, two years, now? I ain't shot you once in all that time."

"I appreciate the restraint, Raylan." Boyd reaches over and claps him on the shoulder, lingering to squeeze it for just a second.

"I don't get how you can joke about something like that," Chris says. 

"Son, that's the only way to deal with something like that," Raylan says. "We both know it's something terrible that happened, we both accept part of the responsibility for it, and there ain't nothing else to say about it. We've put it behind us, but we can't just forget about it. I get reminded every time he takes his shirt off."

"He shot me in the heart," Boyd says, grinning at the boy. "Ain't that romantic?"

Chris laughs, dubiously but not uncomfortably. 

Raylan says, "I missed your heart." There's quiet for a minute or so, while Boyd thinks of all the things he could say to that, but doesn't, out of consideration for the boy. He'd also like to kiss him, suddenly, but he won't do that either. 

They sit for awhile, talking a bit about life before the event, and speculating on how things might be once the power comes back, how things will be different and what will go back to being just the way it always was. 

At one point, Raylan reaches down and tugs at Boyd's wrist, which is hanging down over the side of his chair. He twists his hand to grasp Raylan's for just a second before pulling away. He really doesn't want the man to think he's constantly fretting about that shit.

The back door opens, and Kathleen comes through. "Well, isn't this just typical? The woman slaving away in the kitchen while you three sit outside drinking. Good lord, this looks like every Sunday of my six years of marriage."

All three begin their protests immediately, but she just laughs at them. "Shit, you think I wanted my husband in the kitchen either? Loretta asked me to inform you gentlemen that supper is on the table."

She had made a salad with wilted kale and a poached egg on each one, to go along with some kind of hash made from canned meat, onions and potatoes, served over toast. There's even bread pudding for dessert, and it's enough to make Boyd hope they hang around for awhile. 

Loretta tells the women the same basic story she'd told Raylan and Boyd the day before, and Boyd is pretty sure Nancy's eyes narrow at one point, like she's wondering about something. 

When Loretta - and Chris, whose tongue has been loosened by the shine- has finished, Nancy asks, "How long were you there, sweetheart?"

"Uh..." Loretta keeps her eyes steady on her as she hesitates, then continues, "not too long. A couple weeks. Long enough to figure out what was really going on. We'd heard about the place before we got there, it's why we went."

Kathleen frowns deeply and says, "Seems like a reckless thing to do. It's not like these guys were just some bunch of criminals, like you were probably used to."

"We didn't really know," Chris interjects. "We figured it was just some kind of scam. Until we got there, and saw how fu- how crazy it was."

After dinner, the women decline the offer to stick around for drinks, but Nancy pulls Boyd aside. 

"You gonna lecture me on relationships again?" Boyd asks.

"No, boy, I ain't. Seems like you got that squared away for now, I seen the way he was looking at you tonight. I'm worried, though, honey. That little girl ain't saying everything. I can see the way Raylan treats her, almost like he's her damn daddy or something, and that's why I'm telling you. I ain't saying she's a bad girl, but there's more going on than what she's telling you. Grain of salt, is all I'm saying."

Boyd nods. "I wondered the same, but he's gonna help her no matter what."

"Well of course he is." She looks at him like he's missing something, and when he just raises her eyebrows at him, she says, "He can't resist being needed, you of all people ought to know that."

Boyd makes an affronted sound and says, "He can't resist me for all kinds of reasons, woman."

She smiles at him, pleased. "I sure am glad to hear you know that now."

Boyd just shrugs, he figures, let her be smug. She was right, and anyway, he gets to go to bed with Raylan. He can eat a little crow for the sake of something that fucking good.

Raylan is saying good bye to the women, and Boyd is not feeling especially patient. He's trying to catch Raylan's eye, trying to communicate the urgent feelings he's experiencing at this moment, and finally he looks over. Boyd is not sure what expression is on his face, but Raylan looks like he's pushing down a laugh. 

When Nancy and Kathleen finally leave, Loretta starts to clear the table, and Raylan stops her, saying, "Honey, you cooked. And you both worked on our garden. You do not need to be clearing up, let us do that. You two go take it easy. There's a bookshelf in our room, if you feel like reading. Take whatever you want."

Chris smiles and says, "That's awesome, thanks. I'll go look now, if that's okay."

"Go right ahead," Boyd says, and after they've both gone to look, he turns on Raylan. "What are you doing?" he almost whines. "I _want you._ "

Raylan sets a stack of dishes on the counter and walks up close to him. "No shit, darlin'. You been giving me the look for the last hour, I ain't blind. So let's get the goddamn dishes taken care of, and hopefully they'll find books and they'll go read and let us be." He takes Boyd's face in both hands and kisses him, crowding him against the stove. 

He's just pulling away when Loretta and Chris come through, paperbacks in hand. "You guys have a really nice book collection. Thanks for letting us borrow these."

"No problem," Boyd says. "Enjoy. I believe we're gonna turn in and do a little reading ourselves after we get these dishes done."

Loretta's face goes a little pink, but they both say okay, and good night, and head into their room.

"Too obvious?" Boyd asks, grinning.

Raylan reaches up and gently raps him on the forehead, then sinks the plates into the dishwater while Boyd wraps up the leftover bread pudding. 

Boyd has dried the last plate and is putting it up when Raylan comes around behind him, pushing him up against the counter and sinking his face into his collar. Raylan is pressing his groin into Boyd's ass, and Boyd can feel him growing hard. He wishes they were all alone, because he wouldn't mind just pushing their pants down right here and doing it quick and dirty. Maybe not even fucking, just rutting up against each other until they spill. 

That image has his cock springing to life in no time, and when Raylan reaches for it, Boyd feels his smile stretch against his neck. "Looks like I won't have to work too hard for it," he murmurs. "Come on." 

He lets go and pulls off suddenly. Boyd turns around to find him flushed, his cock straining at jeans that don't leave too much room for anything. "Jesus, Raylan," he breathes. 

Raylan blinks, then heads for their room. When they get in there, both of them tear off their own clothes, Boyd finishing just ahead of him and falling onto the bed. Raylan climbs on top of him and they kiss, but it's desperate, all heat. Boyd runs his hands down Raylan's ass and presses a finger in, but he knows there's no time for actual fucking tonight. He wouldn't last, and it seems like Raylan's in a similar state. He has no idea why.

He doesn't stop with his fingers as Raylan takes them both in hand, grunting with pleasure and urgency. Their chests and stomachs brush against each other, and Raylan pushes him into the bed with a smothering kiss that might have overwhelmed if he weren't so turned on. 

"Fuck, Boyd," Raylan pants as he pulls back from the kiss, "I'm so hard right now."

Boyd just groans, because he knows, and it doesn't help his own effort to hear about it. Raylan stops the motion of his hand, apparently trying to hold back the inevitable. Boyd freezes too, stops playing with his ass, and they take a few deep breaths, trying to rein it in. 

"Ain't workin'," Raylan says in a rush, "Gonna come..." He starts working his hand again, and Boyd thrusts two fingers up into him. He whispers, "Ah, fuck, fuck, Boyd-" and stifles whatever other noises might want to come out by biting on Boyd's shoulder. 

Raylan's hand slides through his own come, and when he swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, Boyd feels the rush towards orgasm. He kisses Raylan and claws at his back as he rides it out. 

Raylan collapses on him with a loud exhale, and Boyd lets him stay there for awhile, enjoying his weight in some way he can't quite understand. 

"Goddamn, Boyd," Raylan mutters into his neck, "Where'd that come from?"

"I got no earthly idea, Raylan. Just came on all sudden-like. Could barely even make it to the bedroom, I really just wanted to rub up on you in the kitchen, truth be told."

"Mmm, fuck, that would've been hot." He starts sucking wetly on the skin behind Boyd's ear, moving his tongue over it, as he trails his fingers along the inside of his arm. 

"Are you serious?" Boyd asks, pretty sure it's too soon. 

Raylan grins. "Not really. But I'd really like to be."

Laughing, Boyd pushes him off. "Maybe let's read awhile, like I said we were going to. Then if the spirit moves us, a little later..." 

"Alright." Raylan pulls him down for another kiss. "Pick me out a good one." He gets up and pulls on his jeans.

"Where you going?" Boyd asks, frowning at him.

"Going to take a piss," Raylan says, "then I'm gonna grab the rest of that bread pudding and two forks."

Boyd peruses the bookshelf for a minute before pulling off a copy of _Portnoy's Complaint_ and setting it on Raylan's nightstand. Raylan comes back in already eating out of the casserole dish, and slides into bed. 

"Goddamn, this is good," he says. "And no fucking raisins to ruin it, either." 

Boyd grins and shakes his head, laughing a little, just because he feels really good. 

"What?" Raylan asks, unconcerned. 

Boyd shrugs, and Raylan kisses him. He tastes like vanilla and cinnamon, and himself. So good. Still smiling, he grabs one of the forks and digs in, leaning into Raylan's shoulder, and picks up his book. 

They both fall asleep reading, and the oil lamp burns itself out at some point in the night.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marshals come looking for Loretta and Chris.

In the morning, Boyd gets up first, carrying the empty dish and dirty forks into the kitchen. He goes out back to feed the chickens, and finds Loretta already up, sitting in one of the plastic chairs, her knees drawn up under her chin in the slight chill of the morning. 

She looks up at him and he smiles at her, then scatters some feed. After a moment's hesitation, he puts an extra little bit in front of Raylan's favorite, rolling his eyes the whole time.

He comes back over to sit next to the girl, but doesn't speak right away. After awhile, she says, "I was gonna eat some of that pudding for breakfast. Guess all that reading worked up an appetite."

Boyd hides a smile behind his hand and says, "I sure do apologize, honey. We weren't thinking."

She shrugs, then falls silent. A minute or so later, she says, "Is Raylan gonna go to Elk Creek? I don't think he should. It's _bad_ there. I've been thinking me and Chris should probably just move on. I don't want to cause trouble for him, or you."

"Loretta," Boyd says, looking straight at her now, "don't you dare take off. I mean it, that would be the worst thing you could do. No way he could live with that. He's a lawman, sweetheart, he can handle himself. And I promise I ain't gonna let him do any of this on his own. He's got friends he can turn to, and he's got me. I know my way around a gun."

She gives him a long look, like she wants to ask something. Boyd waits her out, and she finally says, "I never would have guessed he was gay. He had that pregnant wife and all."

"Sometimes it ain't as simple as all that," Boyd replies. "I had a woman too, was engaged, in fact."

"What happened?"

"She was killed, by the people who brought Raylan down to Harlan in the first place, two years ago. He came here because I killed those men. He was supposed to investigate me, arrest me, but he knew that wouldn't be the right thing to do. He remembered who he was. Just in time, I expect."

"So..." She has a bemused smile on her face, perhaps trying to reconcile the Raylan she knew with the one who would ignore the killing of several men. 

"So, he stayed a few days, and he helped me out of a... a deep sorrow that I had sunk into. And during that time, found that he was happier being here too. And decided to stay, even though things were still, uh, a bit confusing between him and me."

"Confusing how?"

Boyd smiles down at his hands. He's not ashamed of his relationship with Raylan now, but back then there was nothing but awkwardness and embarrassment all around, and talking about it is bringing all those feelings to the surface. He's not even sure why he's telling her. 

"It was a new thing for both of us," he says, "being with a man, owning up to that side of ourselves, and also... well, for me and him in particular, there were challenges. We had spent a good deal of time at odds with one another. He had to change more than I ever thought he'd be able to."

"But he did," she says, a big smile blooming on her face, "because he loves you?"

"That's part of it," Boyd says, "but when the world changed, it changed him some, made him see things differently. Or made him remember, anyway, that's how I think of it. When I saw him walking up to this place that first day, I could already see it. I knew he wasn't gonna take me back to Lexington. And I knew I wanted him to stay with me."

The back door opens just then, and Raylan comes out, scratching at the back of his head. "Wondered what was taking so long," he says. "Morning, Loretta."

"Hey," she replies, smiling up at him. "We were just talking about you."

Raylan drops into the chair on the other side of her. "Oh yeah? Aside from me bein' the best thing since sliced bread, what about me?"

She giggles at that and shakes her head. "That was pretty much it."

"I'm thinking of driving over to Virginia today." Loretta starts to protest, but he says, "Not to Elk Creek. Just over the border, see if I can find out what the State Police might know. I want to know if anyone survived, either from your friends or the cult. I won't say nothing about you, but it's important to know if anyone's after you, if there's a warrant out, anything like that. If there is, I think we can fix it, and if not... well, we'll go from there."

She looks alarmed, and Boyd says, "Hush, girl. We'll take care of it." Raylan nods. 

"I'm gonna get dressed and get on my way," Raylan says, getting up. He looks at Boyd. "You fed the chickens, right?"

Boyd grins and says, "Why no, Raylan, I just sat myself down out here without a single thought to the needs of-" 

"Alright, shut up." Raylan looks over at the coop. "Any of 'em getting broody?"

Boyd looks at him with surprise, and says, "Looks like that black one is. You been doing some reading or something?"

"Nah," Raylan says, smiling. "My mama always kept chickens. Didn't I say?"

"No, you did not."

Raylan shrugs and walks into the house, and Boyd stares after for a few seconds before leaning back into his chair again. 

Loretta looks at him, tilting her head as she unabashedly studied his face for a moment. Then she says, "My mama used to look just like you do, sometimes, before she got sick. I never really got it, what they were talking about together, but my daddy would say something and smile at her, and she'd shake her head and smile like she couldn't help it. Almost like she'd rather not."

Boyd looks at her for a bit, and says, "Your daddy was a good man, and he loved you and your mama a whole lot. Sounds like she must have loved him a lot too." 

He looks away from her, because her eyes are welling up a little, and he's quite sure she wouldn't want him to see. She's the kind of girl who only cries if she can't help it. 

Boyd hears a car coming down the long drive, and a second later, Raylan leans out the back door and says in a low voice, "Loretta, I want you to come inside and go into your room with Chris. Don't come out until I say it's alright."

Her eyes are wide, but he doesn't question, just gets up right quick and goes inside. Boyd comes in behind her and raises his eyebrows at Raylan. 

"It's Marshals. Tim and Rachel. I don't know for sure it's about her, but-"

"Yeah," Boyd says. "Let's go find out."

They get to the front door just as Tim and Rachel are coming up the steps. Raylan opens the door and steps outside, quickly followed by Boyd. 

"This is a surprise," Raylan says, shaking hands with both of them. "Not that I ain't happy to see you both, but what are you doing in Harlan?" 

Boyd notes that he's not quite as welcoming as he could be, and wonders if that's just because of Loretta, or because he's been in Harlan for two years now. No one likes to be surprised by federals on their own land. 

Tim says, "We're looking for some people we have reason to believe might be coming through here."

Boyd says hey to them, and asks if they want to come in. "We don't have coffee or nothing, but I could offer you some breakfast. We haven't eaten yet. It's eggs, like pretty much always, but they're fresh." 

Tim and Rachel speak almost simultaneously, with her saying, "No," and Tim saying, "That sounds awesome." 

Boyd turns on the little gas stove and throws a lump of butter in the pan, while Raylan grabs a bowl and goes out back to see if there are any eggs waiting for them. He brings four back with him, and they had half a dozen already.

"Hope none of these are fertilized," Raylan says. "We got a rooster," he tells the Marshals, who look at him like they aren't entirely sure who they're talking to. He obviously notices, and scowls at them. "Listen, you assholes, think whatever you like, but after you eat these fucking eggs you'll wish you had your own damn chickens."

Boyd grins down at the pan and takes the bowl from him, then starts cracking eggs into it. He gives everyone two over easy, including Rachel, who doesn't protest when he slides the plate to her. Raylan's put a loaf of bread on the table and everyone takes some. There's even a little butter left, and Rachel finally says, "Okay, I get it. You got a Sheriff's deputy position open, Raylan?"

Boyd barks a loud laugh, and when everyone turns to look at him, he explains, "It's a sitcom. I mean, think about it." 

Tim is shaking with silent laughter, and he gasps, "Holy shit, it is. It's perfect. Classic fish out of water story, with a twist! Gay Sheriff of a hick town in Kentucky needs a new deputy, and the only decent applicant is a black lady cop from the city!"

Rachel snorts, and says, "Just wait 'til his ex-Nazi boyfriend finds out! Hilarity ensues."

Raylan is laughing, and Boyd is still grinning, though he does feel a little weird about his past activities around Rachel. He glances at her to see if she was really just being funny or trying to get a dig in, and she gazes steadily back at him. He's not sure, but he thinks there's humor in he eyes. 

"Anyways," Raylan says, "who is it you're looking for?"

"You remember that little girl Loretta McCready?" Rachel asks.

"Of course I do," Raylan replies. 

"Well, looks like she might've got herself in a little deep with a cult situation out in Virginia. Seems some kids tried to infiltrate the group, to sabotage them, according to the one we have in custody. He's the one who said he thought she might go to Harlan, seeing's how she's from here, and she even mentioned your name to him. Just your first name, but you know."

"Yeah." Raylan smiles down at the table. "You said two people, though."

"She's probably traveling with a boy named Chris, her boyfriend, maybe," Tim puts in.

"How deep did she get in?" Raylan asks.

"Hard to say," Rachel says. "The boy we're talking to says he and the rest of the people they came to Elk Creek with insinuated themselves into the group. He said he himself had started to half-believe the shit they told him, and they were all forced to take narcotics during their stay. He was pretty strung out, so they might be hurting too."

Tim takes over the story. "There was an attack in the middle of the night, some of these kids tried to rob the cult. This kid Mike was the only one, besides them, who got out. The other boy who had entered the house was shot, as were two of the girls who stayed and tried to help. A third girl threw herself on the mercy of the cult and stayed, became a member for real, it seems."

Raylan sops up the rest of the yolk with his bread and frowns. "So what do you want with Loretta and her boyfriend? You want to press charges for their involvement in the robbery attempt?"

"No, nothing like that," Tim says. "But we want to talk to them, and we may eventually want them to testify as to the goings on at that house. The State Police in VA want to take down this group. But the other thing is, this group, this cult or whatever, they probably know where she's headed, if she is headed here. The girl who stayed would have all that information, and Mike seems to think they'd be the types to come after them."

Boyd makes a skeptical face and says, "That sounds a little paranoid. It's a long way from where they are, why would they bother?"

Rachel nods. "We thought so too, but the fact is they have information. It might be far-fetched, but it's a possibility and we can't just ignore it."

"Alright, look," Raylan says. "I might know where to find her. But I need your absolute word that she ain't on the hook for anything. Her or her friend."

"You got it," Tim says, and Rachel nods agreement. 

Raylan breathes a sigh of resignation, then walks back to the guest bedroom. Boyd can see him lean into the doorway, but can't hear what he's saying. After a minute or so, he steps back, and Loretta and Chris follow him out of the room.

Tim looks sort of pissed, but Rachel laughs. "Nice, Raylan," she says. 

Raylan introduces Chris and Loretta to the Marshals, and glares back at Tim for a few seconds until he eases up. 

As Loretta shakes Rachel's hand, her eyebrows are halfway up her forehead, and she looks over at Boyd. "Better keep that shirt on, Boyd," she says.

"Oh, I've seen his file," Rachel says, laughing. "Though you're right, I don't particularly want to see it. Not while I feel so favorably inclined towards him, seeing as how he seems to have turned our Raylan into a human being."

"What do you mean? Raylan was always nice to me."

"Sure he was, honey," Rachel says, smiling at her. "Raylan's a good guy at heart. I always knew that. But he was also a prickly bastard and a pain in everyone's ass."

Boyd laughs, and everyone looks at him. "Glad to hear it wasn't just me, then."

Tim snorts rudely and says, "I think it's fair to say you brought out the platinum medal winning asshole in him. He was always the worst when he came back from having to see you."

"Well," Boyd says, a grin spreading across his face, "clearly that was 'cause he had to come back. He shoulda just stayed home."

"I'm standing right here," Raylan says, "in case you forgot. And I'm thinking staying in Harlan back then wasn't much of an option, Boyd. Might've been a little complicated."

Boyd nods in acknowledgement, and tries not to think too hard about what that might have looked like. He had always thought Raylan had the capacity to be an outlaw, but he doesn't say that now. It always pisses Raylan off to hear it, anyway. 

"So," Tim says, "we'd like to take you two back to Lexington with us, make sure you're protected, and take statements from both of you."

"What?" Loretta is looking back and forth between the Marshals and Raylan. "You didn't say we had to go anywhere! I don't want to go to Lexington. I'll give a statement, but I'm staying."

"Honey," Raylan starts, "I think you should-"

"I came here because I thought I could trust you." She's clearly angry, her jaw set and her arms crossed. Boyd almost smiles, she looks so damn cute. It's easy to picture her just a few years younger, when Raylan first met her. No wonder he got attached. 

Raylan gives her a look that's close to stern, and says, "Loretta, I would not be sending you with anyone I didn't trust. I was a Marshal when you met me, right? Didn't I do right by you?"

"I ain't a kid anymore. You don't want us here, we'll move on, but I ain't going with them unless we're arrested. Are we?"

Raylan looks at Tim and Rachel, then back at her. "I don't believe so."

"Loretta," Rachel says, "we won't force you to stay in Lexington, even though I think you should, but we have to bring you in to do the interview. There are other people who want to speak with you."

Loretta's face is still set in a stubborn mask as she shakes her head, so Raylan puts up his hands and says, "Okay, look. I'll take you, and drive you back tonight."

"I could drive myself," she grits out. 

"We'd rather you didn't," Tim replies. "We have no interest in arresting you, but we need your help very badly."

She glares mutinously at him, and finally Chris speaks. "We want to help. We'll come. But we're not staying overnight." He takes her hand and squeezes. Boyd wonders how much trouble he's going to be in later.

"That's fine," Rachel. "Let's go right away, then."

The Marshals walk toward the door, followed by Loretta and Chris. Raylan looks a question at Boyd. 

"You want me along?" Boyd asks.

Raylan shrugs with deliberate casualness and says, "You want to, sure." Boyd smirks in response, but follows him out the door. 

The ride into the city is tense. Loretta is glaring out the back window, obviously feeling betrayed by everyone, and Raylan is staring moodily out the windshield as he drives. Boyd carries on a conversation with Chris, asking about his parents' military careers, and talking a little - very little - about his own time in the Army. After that plays out, the car is pretty much quiet for the rest of the trip.

Inside the office, lots of people Boyd doesn't recognize are milling around, and Tim heads straight in to talk to Art. He's in there for a couple minutes, then comes back out and walks over to them.

"Chris, you come with me, we'll do your interview in the conference room." Tim turns to Rachel and says, "Art said he'd make his office available for Loretta."

Rachel nods and puts a hand on Loretta's back to guide her there, but Loretta doesn't budge. "I didn't know we had to be interviewed separate," she says, tension rising in her voice. 

"Sometimes people's memories aren't completely accurate, and we want completely independent accounts of what happened. We can't have you feeding off each other."

Loretta nods quickly, like she understands but she's still looking for a way out of it.

"I'll be in there with you, honey," Raylan says, but Loretta starts shaking her head hard. 

" _No._ No, I don't want you in there."

Raylan frowns, says, "You- Loretta, I know you went through some rough shit, you might want a familiar face around if you gotta talk about it."

She looks so young in that moment that Boyd understands completely why Raylan feels the need to push it. She looks terrified. Even still, she stares him down with a fierce expression on her face and says, "I'll be fine." 

"It's up to you," Raylan says, helpless. 

She looks down at her feet, her cheeks burning now, and it looks like she's struggling with the decision of whether to say what's on her mind. Rachel shifts impatiently, and Loretta looks up again. She asks, "Can _he_ come in, instead?" 

Boyd's face goes blank with surprise as he realizes she means him. He looks sharply at Raylan, who speaks slowly, saying, "You want Boyd to go in with you?"

Loretta nods, still looking towards the ground, and Rachel says, "If you want him with you, that's fine." 

Boyd nods at her and moves to follow them to Art's office. He glances back and catches Raylan's eye, and he can see that this is going to be an issue. Raylan's eyes look like they're going to pop out of their sockets, and he's grinding his teeth like he's got another set underneath. 

Boyd is the last person into the office, and he pulls the door closed behind him without looking back again. 

In addition to Rachel, in the room is a serious-looking young woman in a pantsuit and glasses, and a tall man with thinning hair, a mustache and a police uniform. They both stand, and introduce themselves as Agent Carlson of the FBI, and Sergeant Dave Tucker of the Virginia State Police.

They both look questioningly at Boyd, and he says, "Boyd Crowder. I'm a family friend, just here for support."

The FBI woman goes first, asking for the dates of Loretta's stay in Elk Creek, which she tries to estimate for them. 

"And were you with the Elk Creek Collective the entire time?" she asks.

Loretta nods. "They were the reason we went there. We'd heard lots of shit about them, and that's what we did. Daniel had a plan, we were supposed to go there and ask for their help, tell them we didn't have anyplace to go."

The State Trooper cuts in and says, "So you went in with the intention of stealing from them? Or what?"

"The idea was to take some of the stuff they were hoarding, keep some of it and give the rest away. We'd done it a few times in other places."

"So did the plan work?" Agent Carlson asks.

"Pretty much," Loretta says. "They let all the girls in easy, and Mike. They said no to Chris... I think it's because they could tell me and him were together. They didn't want that, 'cause... maybe they thought he'd be protective and keep them from... you know."

"From having sex with you," Carlson says, not unkindly. 

"Yeah," Loretta whispers. "And I think they didn't want Daniel because he had, like, his own power. You could almost feel it coming off of him. He would've been competition."

"But they let Mike in," Sergeant Tucker says. 

Loretta shrugs. "Mike is quiet. And skinny. And... well, you know. Sometimes they wanted the boys to... do stuff with them too."

"Mike didn't tell us anything like that had happened to him," the FBI agent says. 

Loretta lifts her eyebrows at her and stares at her like she's an idiot. "That's why it was so easy for Daniel to get him to agree to go back in for the raid. All the girls knew what went on. He thought he had something to prove."

"And what about you, Loretta?" Rachel asks gently. 

Loretta sets her jaw and says, "I knew what it would be. I made my choice. We all did it. I'm fine." 

"We need to get you to a doctor, make sure-"

"No," Loretta says. "I'm fine. With the girls at least, they always, you know, used..." Her face is beet red by now, and Boyd is horrified. He doesn't know what to do, if she'd even want an attempt at comfort from him. She barely knows him, and he thinks it really should have been Raylan in here. He knows why she didn't want that, though. 

Boyd slides a hand across the couch cushion and nudges her hand, and she surprises him by grabbing at it with her small, strong fingers. 

She takes a breath and starts again. "They didn't want anyone getting pregnant. They were paranoid about it."

"Did you all live with them in the same house?" the agent asks.

She shakes her head. "Not all the time. They had a few houses where we could stay, and they had someone in each of them to, like, watch us. We'd have to go and get food from them, and sometimes we'd have to do things for it, sometimes not," she says, blinking hard but not wavering. "But always, we'd have to take something, drugs, and they'd watch us. I knew we couldn't do it for long, or it was going to be a problem. I knew we'd made a big mistake, it wasn't like Daniel thought it was going to be."

"What did you expect it to be like?" Rachel asks.

"We thought they'd be like the other groups we'd met. Just power hungry. Dangerous, but... They seemed like they believed what they were saying. There were two of them who were really the leaders, and they never said, but I think they might've been brothers, or cousins, or something. Or at least like they'd known each other a really long time, and they thought they had some kind of... like the power going out was from God, so they could fulfill their destiny, that's what they said."

"And people believed them?" the Trooper asks.

"They said they were building up their powers, and eventually God would give them the power to destroy their enemies with fire from their mouths, and bring plagues with their minds."

Boyd hadn't meant to make a sound, but a small noise forces itself from his throat at that, and everyone looks over at him. 

"It's from Revelation," he says. "The Two Witnesses, prophets of God. They're killed by the Beast, God ressurects them, they ascend into heaven, then there's an earthquake." He shrugs. "Growing up, in my church, the preachers loved Revelation. That and the Old Testament. All the scary shit."

Loretta looks at him and he squeezes her hand and nods. She says, "Me and Tonya and Caitlin were in the same house, and Ashley, Julia and Mike were in another one. We had a plan to leave from the beginning, we had arranged a place to meet up with Daniel and Chris on a certain night. We snuck out after everyone was asleep. They didn't really guard us, it wasn't like they were forcing us to stay, exactly. They believed us. That's why I think they really believed in their own power, they never thought anyone would really want to leave."

"So what was the plan?" Rachel asks. 

"We'd found out where they kept their stores, the gas and food anyway, and we took the boys there. They did have a guard on that stuff, with a gun and a radio, but we'd done this kind of thing before. Daniel had one of those rifles that shoot, like, bean bags? I don't know where the hell he got it, but he had it. We never wanted to kill anyone, that was important to him, and all of us. So he hit him with that, and we tied him up and broke the radio. We got his keys and took as much as we could carry in backpacks, and got to where we'd left the cars."

She stops for a minute, closing her eyes. "I thought we would just take off. I wasn't going back there. I couldn't even look at Chris, he kept asking if I was okay, and I couldn't say anything."

Boyd is only thinking that he can't believe the boy let her go in there in the first place, and he realizes he hasn't been this angry since what happened to Ava. He hadn't been able to protect her, but damn if he would have let her walk into a situation like that one. He's thinking he might want to kick the kid's ass, and he can't imagine letting him stay under his roof after this. And that if he did, Raylan might never speak to him again.

Loretta tells the rest of the story quickly, how Daniel had shown them he'd taken the gun from the guard, and everyone got freaked out, but he convinced Mike to go break in with him where they slept, and find the drugs. How Mike was all freaked out and far away looking, and that Daniel promised he was just going to use the gun to threaten them if necessary, not hurt anyone. 

"I think he meant it," Loretta says. "But I don't know what happened in there. The other girls waited around for them, or said they were going to. I don't know anything else, 'cause me and Chris left."

They question her for nearly an hour after that, asking for clarifications and specifics, and Loretta creeps closer to Boyd by millimeters until she's finally pressed up against his side and he rests a hand on her back. 

Rachel notices, and her expression is a complicated one as she meets his eyes. He thinks maybe she hasn't understood how he and Raylan could work, up to that point, but maybe she sees him a little differently now. Sort of like how people might see you differently if their dog likes you. He figures he'd best keep that comparison to himself. 

When the interview finally ends, Loretta looks wrung out, and she pulls away from Boyd, drawing back into her usual self-contained demeanor. Rachel tells her she can go, and that she and Chris needed to stay in Harlan for the time being. She looks meaningfully at Boyd, like she's going to hold him personally responsible if they go anywhere. 

As they exit the office, Boyd takes ahold of her elbow. After the door is closed, he leans in and says in a low voice, "Me and Raylan are takin' you back to Harlan. Just you, you hear?"

"What?" She looks bewildered. 

Boyd is sure his face is unpleasant, possibly frightening, and he's sort of glad for it at the moment. He growls at her, "I am offering you the chance to save that boy's ass from a world class beat down, and I suggest you take it. I am fairly confident of my own ability to restrain myself, but once Raylan hears about what happened there, I can in no way say the same for him."

She whips her head up at him with a furious look on her face. "You ain't gonna tell him! I didn't want him to hear, that's why I brought you in and _not_ him."

"Well darlin'," Boyd says, laughing humorlessly, "that was a miscalculation on your part. Look, I get it, but he's gonna find out. Even if I didn't tell him, someone else would, and he wouldn't stop until he knew everything. And that includes the fact that your boyfriend let you put yourself in a position where you had to open your legs for those goddamn nutjobs in Virginia."

"Let me!" she snaps, then looks around to see if anyone is listening. She lowers her voice, but her anger is just as obvious. "What is that supposed to mean? Listen here, maybe I fucked up and like you said, put _myself_ in a bad position. That was for me to say, not him or anyone else. And if he ain't welcome at your home, I ain't going either."

"Honey, you may see it that way, but the way I see it - and I'm confident the way Raylan will see it - is a seventeen year old girl got herself mixed up in something she wasn't ready for, and the man who was supposed to care about her, and protect her, sent her into a viper's nest."

She throws up her hands and looks away in frustration. "Why do you think he had any say over what I do? And by the way, he's only two years older than me, not nearly old enough to be my damn daddy. You do whatever Raylan tells you to do? Does he?"

"Well, we at least have each other's backs, and if he was gonna run headlong into something like that, I would sure as fuck be trying as hard as I could to talk him out of it."

"That ain't how this was." Her chin is pointed at him like a weapon now, and her eyes are blazing. "You don't get it. This is what we did. I was with Daniel and them before he was. The group decided on how we would do things, and I was part of the group. It wasn't for him to say what I did. He wouldn't have, it just wasn't like that."

Boyd is quiet for a few moments, trying to see it from her perspective. Finally, he says, "We'll all go back to Harlan. And I'll hold off on talking to Raylan, but I need to speak with Chris. I need to hear what he's got to say for himself."

"Fine." He can tell she's pissed, but that she's also pretty sure she's won. Women always know. 

They walk out to where Raylan and Chris are waiting. The boy's interview was probably shorter, since he hadn't been living with the cult. Boyd refrains from looking at him, just focuses on Raylan who still looks to be in high dudgeon.

"Ready?" Boyd asks, keeping his tone even. The last thing he wants to deal with is a fight with Raylan in the middle of the goddamned Marshal's office. "Let's go, alright?"

"Yeah," Raylan mutters. "Let's go."

The drive back to Harlan is even worse than the one from there. No one speaks unless absolutely necessary, yet everyone is pretending nothing is wrong. 

When they get home, Raylan says he's going to make dinner, and Boyd asks Chris to help him with something out back. As soon as they're out the door, Boyd hauls him around and pushes him up against the back wall of the cabin. He presses a hand to the kid's chest, and stares into his frightened face. 

"You and me, we got something to work out," Boyd tells him. "I need to understand how a man lets his woman enter a situation as dangerous as that was, knowing exactly what she was gonna have to go through, and not even put up a goddamn fight over it."

"I- I didn't know, not- not everything. I didn't know they'd make her take those drugs, and I didn't know... well, I didn't know for sure she'd have to... _shit_." 

He doesn't look scared anymore, just devastated. He offers no more protests or defenses, just says, "I know. I think about it all the time. I wish I'd done differently, but I didn't and I can't ever take it back. And I don't know if she even would have listened to me, and I couldn't have stopped her, but I should have tried and I didn't. I didn't. She just... seemed like she was so sure, like she knew what she was doing. Maybe she did. Do you think she's okay about it? I can't tell. I don't even think she's told me everything that happened."

"Kid," Boyd says, then blows out a frustrated breath and lets up on his chest. "I ain't any kind of expert on women's emotional states. Far as I can tell, she seems like she can handle her shit okay. If I were you, I wouldn't poke too hard at it. Don't try to make her tell you what she don't want to tell you."

"I'm sorry I didn't take care of her better. I'm trying to now as well as I can. But I can't... she won't stand for me telling her how things should be, and I wouldn't really want to do that anyway."

Boyd nods. "I hear you. I'll try to handle Raylan for you, but you could still have a problem there."

"Maybe I should just talk to him. Get out in front of it?"

Boyd raises his eyebrows and looks at the boy with a bit more respect. "You could try that. Wait 'til after dinner, though, alright?"

Chris offers what might be trying to be a smile, and says, "Okay."

Boyd goes in, leaving Chris standing outside with his guilt, and finds Raylan heating up some jarred soup they'd traded for the week before. 

"Hey, Raylan," he says softly, leaning on the counter close to where Raylan is standing. 

Raylan looks at him severely and says, "I ain't really in the mood to chat."

"I know," Boyd says, "but we need to. Can you just put that on low and come talk to me in the bedroom?"

Raylan presses his lips together and stares down at the soup pot. He turns the heat down under it and turns to look at Boyd, his hands on his hips. "Fine," he says. "Come on, then."

Boyd follows him back and they sit on the edge of the bed. "I know you're pissed about her not wanting you in with her."

Raylan doesn't answer, just breathes heavily out through his nose and looks at Boyd expectantly. 

"Raylan," he continues, "what happened at that place, it was bad. She didn't want you to hear, because she didn't want you to think any different about her. She only wanted me because she needed _someone,_ but not someone who knew her when she was fourteen and saved her damn life."

"I wouldn't judge her, whatever it was that happened. Things are different now, Boyd, I know that. Sometimes you have to do things you might not have before."

Boyd picks up his hand from the bed. "Yeah," he says, a slight smile on his face, "you and me have to do some of those almost every night."

Raylan returns his smile, though grudgingly, and says, "Don't try to distract me with sex."

"Listen. I ain't gonna tell you what she said now, but I will later, if you want. But Chris wants to talk to you about some stuff after dinner, and he might fill in some of the details for you. Give him a chance to talk, alright?" 

Raylan frowns at him, but nods. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Just promise me."

"Yeah, alright," Raylan says. "I will."

Boyd pulls at his shoulder until he twists around, and they're looking at each other. Raylan gives him a better smile then, and kisses him, pushing him back into the mattress. 

Boyd grins and says, "Later, baby. We should eat."

Raylan groans and kisses him again. "I'd rather suck your cock."

"Christ," Boyd says, and can't think of anything else in response. He pushes Raylan back and slides his legs over the side of the bed. "You kill me, Raylan."

"Hey, Boyd?" Boyd turns to look at him and he says, "I'm real glad you were there to go in with her since she didn't want me to."

Boyd sighs and walks back over to him, pulling him up from the bed. He puts his arms around Raylan's shoulders and pulls him in. "Me too," he says. 

They eat dinner with Loretta still in stony silence, Chris looking downcast and anxious, and Raylan and Boyd making sporadic attempts at conversation. At least Raylan periodically reaches over and rubs a hand up and down his thigh, so that perks things up a bit. Unfortunately, he's not sure Raylan will be in any kind of mood for screwing after his conversation with Chris. 

After they eat, Boyd says, "I'll clear up. Maybe Loretta will help me wash." He looks at Chris, who nods and asks Raylan if he can have a word out back. 

When they've left, Loretta asks, "What's that about?"

Boyd starts scrubbing dishes as he talks. "You won't like it," he says. "But I talked to your boy earlier, and I'm gonna cut him a little slack on account of him being a dumbass kid himself, and because he loves you. I'm hoping Raylan comes to the same conclusion, and I don't have to waste a bunch of time talking him around. I had other plans for the evening."

She looks at him like she wants to ask something, but her face goes red and she clamps her mouth shut. 

"What is it, honey? I'm sorry, I was being vulgar. I don't quite know how I should be talking to you, sometimes. Don't want to treat you like a baby, but it ain't like you're twice married with a couple of kids under your belt neither."

She rolls her eyes at him and says, "It ain't that. It ain't like I don't know you and Raylan are screwing, or whatever. I got the general idea, you know? It's not about you, it's... I really don't want to talk to you about this, but I don't know who else to ask."

"Alright," Boyd says, but he's not sure he really wants to hear. 

"Ever since Elk Creek, Chris... he barely wants to touch me. He says he ain't put off by what happened, what I had to do, but... I don't know. It used to be real good, but now it's nothing."

"Jesus, Loretta," Boyd says, "I am quite certain I ain't the best person to be asking about this. But... look, the boy feels guilty. He feels like he let you down, didn't keep you safe. I know you think that's all bullshit, and maybe some of it is, but that won't stop him from thinking it. Or feeling it. He's gonna need time, and as much as I hate to counsel this, you got to sit him down for a long talk. You gotta let him know you're alright, if you are, and if you ain't, then you got to tell him that, too."

"I am," she says, "I'm fine." 

"Alright, then," Boyd says. Maybe she is, he thinks, or she will be. There's something to be said for making your own choices and owning them, even if they're ultimately terrible ones. At least they're yours.

They've just finished the washing up when Chris comes back inside. He looks at both of their questioning faces, and shrugs. "He hardly said a word, so I don't know." 

He walks back toward their room, and Loretta watches him go until Boyd nudges her on the shoulder and says, "Go on, girl. Make him feel better. That's your job, now."

She gives him a skeptical look, but puts down the dish towel she was drying with and follows Chris into the room. Boyd sighs and heads for the back yard. Raylan is his job, and he might as well do it now.

Raylan is down on the lower part of the yard, arms crossed, near the coop but not really looking at the chickens. Boyd walks down and stands beside him with his hands in his pockets and waits for him to speak. Minutes pass in silence, but eventually Raylan looks over at him.

"I'm trying, Boyd," he says, and he sounds like he's forcing it out. "I get what happened. I can see how things were, why it went the way it did. But I'm having a real hard time imagining how he didn't just drag her out of there in the first place, why he didn't just say 'fuck this, we're going.' That's what I would have done, and you would have too, I know it."

Boyd nods. "You're right, I would have. And maybe she would have listened, and maybe not. You wouldn't have listened, if you were in her shoes, though."

"I ain't a teenage girl. I can take care of myself."

Boyd laughs. "You almost got yourself killed a couple months ago, doing something stupid on your own when you should've waited for help."

Raylan scowls into the distance and doesn't say anything. Boyd sighs and puts a hand on his arm. "They made a stupid decision. Both of them - all of them in that group. They thought they had everything figured out, of course they did, they were all just children. Remember when we were that age? Fuckin' idiots."

A faint smile creeps onto Raylan's face. "You were still a fuckin' idiot when I came back twenty years later. Don't try to blame it on age."

"So were you, asshole," Boyd returns. 

"Yeah, I suppose I was," Raylan sighs. "Maybe I still am."

"That's alright, I'll still let you suck my cock. I'm generous like that."

Raylan grins now. "You'd do that for me? Damn, I know how to pick 'em."

"Only if you say you're gonna let this shit go, Raylan," Boyd says, serious now. 

"I said I'm trying, didn't I?"

"That you did," Boyd replies. "Alright. Come on, then."

"Think they'd notice if we did it out here? Goddamn, I hate having house guests."

Boyd grips him by the elbow and pulls him toward the house. He would have dragged him if he hadn't come along so willingly. 

They're often so quick to get started, racing towards some kind of resolution. Boyd thinks it comes from how they were in the beginning, needing something from each other but not wanting to think too hard about what it was, or why. It's not that they don't know how to show each other any tenderness or that they're unwilling to, but it's usually after, when they've gotten the other thing out of the way. 

This time, he wants to slow things down, for it to not be desperate, despite how hard his dick might be. He pushes Raylan's hands away from the buttons of his shirt and takes over for him, undoing them slowly and kissing him while he works. 

"You never do this, Boyd," Raylan murmurs. His hands are on Boyd's shoulders, and the pressure feels good, just right, holding him in place. 

"Well," he says back, "I do now." He slides the shirt down Raylan's arms, then runs his hands under the t-shirt, pushing it up. Raylan raises his arms to allow him to remove it. 

Raylan takes Boyd's face in his hands and kisses him deeply, breaking away when Boyd smiles. He moves to reciprocate with Boyd's shirt, and says, "For an outlaw, you sure got a romantic streak."

Boyd's shirt is open now, and Raylan is kissing his shoulder. He says, "All outlaws are romantics, Raylan. So are lawmen. It's a very romantic relationship between the two, when you think about it."

"You're such a bullshitter," Raylan says, smiling as he unzips Boyd's jeans. He pushes them down over his hips, and it's such a relief that Boyd sucks in a breath through his teeth. 

When Raylan slips his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and slides them down too, it's all he can do not to push him down on the bed, but he holds himself still and lets Raylan touch him. When he starts to sink down to his knees, Boyd groans, but quickly says, "Wait," and grabs his arm. "Take off the rest of your clothes first, I want to look."

Raylan looks at him with a glint of amusement, but he doesn't care. If he didn't like it, he'd say no, so Boyd steps back and watches him, kicking his own pants off in the meantime. 

When he's undressed, Raylan grips him by the hips and pulls him close. " _Now_ can I please get your dick in my mouth? Jesus Christ, that's a sentence I never thought I'd utter, but there you are."

Boyd laughs softly at him and intones, "I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I believe I have ended up where I needed to be."

Raylan wraps his fingers around him, cocks his head at him and asks, "Are you seriously quoting at me while you're standing there with a hard on you could hammer nails with?"

Boyd grins, "That's Douglas Adams, and yes, Raylan, I am. I might keep doing it, too, but that shouldn't keep you from the task at hand. So to speak."

Raylan gives him a look that Boyd is sure has been on his own face more than once. It's almost certainly what Loretta meant when she said it looked like her mama was smiling just because she couldn't help it, even if she didn't want to. It looks real good on him, too.

Once Raylan's mouth is on him, however, he's not really able to find an appropriate literary reference, so he contents himself with grunts and moans, and happy sighs, and Raylan's name, which he loves beyond all good sense. It sounds like home, always has, but now more than ever. 

Raylan is stroking himself, but slowly, just keeping up. Boyd can feel it coming on, so he tightens his fingers in Raylan's hair, then pulls him off. Raylan looks up with a confused expression and says, "You want something else?"

"Yeah," Boyd replies, "I want more."

Raylan stands and kisses him, then they tumble to the bed, grasping at each other and rolling over. "More of what?" Raylan pants. 

"You," Boyd says, not really even knowing what, precisely, he means. 

Raylan pauses, leaning down on him, and looks right into his eyes. "You got it, Boyd. Everything that's left, it's yours. I love you."

"Shit, Raylan, I didn't mean... Jesus, baby, I know." Boyd rolls him over quick and kisses him hard, then takes hold of him, moving his hand along his length, whispering in his ear whatever comes to mind, until he comes with a groan and a curse. 

Boyd finishes himself off, staring down at Raylan, and in his mind, briefly, he's the Sheriff, and the Marshal, and the boy he knew long ago. Boyd loves all those things, but none so much as what Raylan is to him, here, in his home. He settles in next to him after, sticky and sloppy, and does not care one little bit.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head.

The next several days pass quietly, with Raylan slowly resuming normal communication with Chris, and Loretta gradually loosening the iron grip she'd been holding herself in since Lexington. 

Things are better, peaceful, but Boyd is starting to think about finding them another place to live. They probably need the privacy to work out whatever they're dealing with, and he's sure as shit ready to have his back. It's not a big place, pretty much the right size for him and Raylan, but that's it. 

On Sunday, Loretta and Chris come along to the swap meet. People are curious, and everyone is looking for news about other places, so travelers are always popular. Loretta meets a few people who know her, that she went to school with or knew her parents. 

Chris hangs back, mostly, with Boyd and Raylan. He still looks troubled, and Boyd thinks that might take awhile to pass. That's as it should be, in his opinion, and probably a good thing as far as it goes, but if he wants to stay with her he's going to have to stop torturing himself. Loretta is not the kind of person who has a lot of patience for bullshit. 

They're leaning on the back of the truck, and Raylan lifts his hand to greet Doc Emerson - which is how Boyd thinks of him, even though he knows the man's first name - and his partner, Matthew. He forces himself to use the word "partner," because that's what they say, even though he finds it slightly pretentious himself in that context. He never knows what to call Raylan, but it won't be that, he's certain. 

They walk over, and Raylan makes the introductions, pointing to where Loretta is standing, talking to a girl of about her own age. 

"Hey Boyd," Matthew says, "I've been meaning to ask you, you traded for a bunch of roofing equipment last year, right?"

"Sure did," Boyd says. "We've almost replaced the whole damn thing, just got one more section to go."

"Think you're going to have anything left over when it's all done? That storm last month broke a big branch off the tree that hangs over the house, and must have knocked some shingles loose. We're getting a brown stain in the kitchen ceiling."

"Yeah, man," Boyd says. "Should have a lot left over. Shingles, roofing nails, what have you. What do you think, for a trade?"

"Going hunting tomorrow morning. I could bring you some venison, probably. Or, I just got back from the city and got some Starbucks Via packets, you know, their version of instant coffee. Some former barista had apparently been hoarding them since this shit started."

Boyd nods. "Alright. Let me know what happens on your hunt, and we'll go from there. I'm good either way. I'll be gone all week helping out here on the farm, but Loretta and Chris should be around, and even if they're not you can just go on in. The stuff's in the basement. Just be sure to leave me about two hundred square feet of shingles, and some nails, and take whatever you need."

"Great, thanks." Matthew turns his square-jawed, handsome face towards Raylan, and grins. "I heard you got a rooster named after you."

Raylan's eyebrows shoot up and he says, "What's that, now?"

Matthew presses his lips together and widens his eyes like he knows he's screwed up. Boyd rolls his eyes and sighs. "Fuckin' Nancy," he mutters.

"Actually, it was Kathleen who told us," Emerson says.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Raylan asks, glaring at Boyd.

"I may have mentioned that I nicknamed our rooster 'Raylan.' It's a compliment, I swear.

Matthew stifles a laugh, and Emerson looks away, lips twitching. Chris is watching them intently. 

"A compliment," Raylan says, folding his arms and continuing to glare.

"Well, yes. It's on account of his facility with the ladies. You seen the way they follow him around. Back in high school, I don't think I ever saw you without a blonde girl hangin' off your dick."

Matthew, Emerson and Chris all roar with laughter, and Raylan shakes his head in resignation. "You're an asshole," he says. "You coulda just kept your little joke to yourself."

Boyd smiles at him, but says, "I know, I'm sorry," in a more or less sincere tone.

Raylan squints in Boyd's direction. And says, "Maybe next time, we'll get another rooster who keeps trying to control all the feed and get the rest of the chickens to pay him for it, but is constantly thwarted by the first rooster. I call naming rights on that one."

"That's a long way to go for a joke, baby," Boyd says. "But touché."

On Wednesday, Boyd leaves the house shortly after Raylan does, but instead of going directly to Nancy and Kathleen's, he drives over to the house where he'd lived with Ava, where Ava had lived with Bowman all those bad years and where his brother had died by her hand. It's also the house where Raylan shot him, where he almost died and everything changed for him. 

Boyd had been back to this house only once since Ava died, to retrieve the bed frame and mattress from the guest bedroom, when he'd asked Raylan to stay. He'd never told Raylan that. It had felt too naked, to tell him that he'd done that for him, because he'd wanted him to stay so badly. He could tell him now, if he wanted to, but he doesn't need to. Raylan already knows how he feels. 

The weeds are grown up tall and wild all around the place. Boyd sits in the truck for several minutes before he manages to force himself out and onto the front porch. 

He opens the front door, and it smells musty inside, but not terrible. All the food had been removed, and Ava had kept a clean house. He's surprised there's no damage, no broken windows or piles of garbage inside, no used condoms or remains of cook fires. Maybe out of respect for the Crowders, or respect for Ava, or possibly just chance.

He'd been afraid of what might happen when he got in here. The time he'd come for the bed, he'd barely managed to hold it together, had ended up collapsing onto the stairs with his head between his legs, trying to steady his breathing. But that was a long time ago, and as it turns out, he needn't have worried.

It feels alright in here now. There's a sadness to it, a sort of melancholy haze of nostalgia, but he's not freaking out. He's not crying or wanting to punch a hole in the wall. He could never live here again, but he can be in here. He looks around, but doesn't go upstairs. No reason to push it.

He makes up his mind to do what he'd thought of days earlier, and offer the place to Loretta and Chris. Once they're in here, they'll make it feel different anyway. 

He closes up the house and heads over to the farm. He'll help for a few hours, and they'll send him home with baked goods and vegetables. It's a good deal, as far as he's concerned. 

He leaves at around two, after lunch and a bit more work after that. He's almost excited to talk to Loretta and Chris about the house, and he's definitely excited to have the cabin back to himself and Raylan. After the Marshals had left a few months back, they'd made a point to screw all over the place. Boyd wouldn't mind a repeat of that little game.

Boyd's hands are full of bread and some cinnamon rolls that look fucking amazing. He's preoccupied as he opens the door, thinking how he'd like to watch Raylan eat one, then lick the glaze off his lips, and-

He feels the cold steel of a gun barrel against his temple and freezes, completely motionless. He has time to feel pissed at himself because someone got the drop on him in his own goddamn house, just before the guy says, “Walk. Slow. Into the living room.” He can’t place the guy’s accent. It’s not Kentucky, anyway. 

Chris and Loretta are sitting on the couch with a young man in between them - no more than 24 or 25 years old, with long, greasy hair and a full beard - and they look up and smile as Boyd comes in. Loretta's smile falters slightly when her eyes light on the gun, but the man next to her says, "Don't worry, child, it's only an instrument. No harm will come to him."

She looks away from Boyd then, back to the man, and runs her hand up his arm, rubbing at the fabric of his shirt. He smiles at her like a lover, and kisses her. 

Boyd lurches a little bit towards them, but the man behind him digs the gun into his back, hard, and he stops. He looks at Chris to gauge his reaction, but the boy is still smiling, and reaches across the man to stroke her hair. 

"Sit down, Marshal," the man with the gun says, calmly. "We have no desire to hurt anyone." He takes duct tape from his pocket and binds Boyd's wrists and ankles.

Loretta giggles and looks at Boyd again. "Marshal," she says, her face stretched in a huge grin. Boyd looks sharply at her, hoping she'll shut up. 

"What is going on here?" Boyd asks. "What do you want?"

The man on the couch gazes calmly at him and says, "Only to bring these children to salvation, and to protect them when the Lord returns and lays all sinners to waste. Loretta was taken from us by this man, but he has asked our forgiveness, and we are forgiving. He has agreed to accept our Communion and be folded into the arms of our community." He touches Chris's face then and nods at him. "From my very essence, you shall receive understanding."

"Is that so?" Boyd asks, watching Chris. He's licking his lips and rubbing his thumb over the seam of the nubbly sofa cushion, his face reflecting some kind of nearly-intense pleasure. "It seems to me, Loretta and Chris came to Harlan to get away from your community. They came here looking for a safe haven."

"They will be far safer with us than with you, during the coming tribulations. We have powers not yet fully realizes. God will grant us the power to control the skies and the waters of this earth, and we will- “ 

He cuts off as Boyd begins to laugh at him, almost hysterically. “Son, I got terrifying Bible passages up to my eyeballs, so if you wanna go, we can go. But you ain't the Witnesses, and this ain't the end times, and I'm telling you right now that if I get free of these bonds, I will beat you so hard, you won't be no more than a smear on the fucking floor. You ain't nothing but thieves and rapists, and you ought to be grateful there ain't really no God in heaven to cast you into eternal fire for what you done."

The man's face shows its first flash of anger, and he starts to reply, when there's a knock at the front door. Both men put their fingers to their lips, and everyone's quiet. Then they hear the front door open, and Matthew's voice calling out, "Boyd, you around? I saw your truck out front. I'm gonna come in and get those shingles."

Boyd calls back to him, "No, Boyd ain't here, just me. It ain't really a good time."

There's a pause, and Matthew says, "Uh- okay, Raylan. I'll come back later.

The men look at each other, then one of them - the one who had ambushed Boyd - runs to the front door. Boyd hears a shout, and then a loud bang. Boyd's heart leaps into his throat, and he feels like he's going to choke on it for a second, until his brain kicks back in. He realizes that wasn't the sound of the 9mm his captor had been holding - it was a shotgun.

Loretta and Chris are staring at him, roused by the noise, and he gives a very slight nod to them. He hears the sound of the truck engine starting, and gravel spraying under tires. The man on the couch looks at Boyd and snarls, "Who are you, really, demon?"

Boyd snorts and shakes his head. "I ain't no demon. My name is Boyd Crowder. I live here." Boyd knows he needs to keep him talking, keep him focused on himself, to give Matthew time to get help, to go get Raylan. 

The bearded man gets up from the sofa and walks to the front door. Boyd hears it open, hears a strangled cry and some low talking. He looks sharply at Loretta and says, "What did he give you?"

"Little yellow pills," Chris answers, "With hearts on 'em. They're gonna..."

Loretta blinks a few times and says, "Give us the gift of understanding. His Communion."

"His essence? That mean what I think?" Boyd says, sneering. 

"Communion," Loretta breathes. "I think... I did feel the understanding, before. In the... one time. For a few seconds, I think I knew. Could he be real? Could this be true?"

"No," Boyd replies shortly. "Loretta, you came here because you knew they were wrong. You knew what they were, you said it. You came here to find Raylan because you knew he cared for you and would help you." Boyd is talking fast, wanting to get this out before the guy comes back in. "There's a house, honey,” he continues in a softer voice. "I got a house for you and Chris, for your own. You can stay, you don't ever need to leave. Don't forget who you are, girl."

She blinks at him, and Chris reaches out for her hand. She looks at him and sinks down into his lap, rubbing his leg and saying, "I love you so much, did you know that?" in a sing-song voice. Chris just strokes her hair and stares down at her raptly. She says, "They were gonna kill him, but I wouldn't let them. I said he would come home with them too, and he'd learn to believe. So they said they were gonna give him the gift. They gave us all the gift. Me, Ashley, Caitlin, Mike..."

They're both in their own world now, cuddling and touching each other. Boyd frowns deeply. He works at the tape binding his hands, listening to the sounds of a body being dragged into the house. He begins to feel them loosen slightly when the man comes back in, pulling his bleeding friend along the floor. He's been shot in the chest, but it looks like he's still alive. 

The man stands up and glares at Boyd. "Why did you tell us you were the Marshal, demon?"

Boyd sighs. "I didn't exactly say that, you just assumed. But I ain't the Marshal, that's true. Before things changed, I was an outlaw. An ambitious one, though not always successful. Now, I just live. My ambitions are only for the happiness of myself and the people I love."

"Demons don't change, they are always evil. Evil will not triumph over the messengers of God."

"I'm just a man," Boyd says softly. "A flawed man, just like every other, but no demon. There are no demons, son. There is no Lucifer, there is no God. My sins are many, and they have been forgiven, but by other people. That's what matters, who we are to other people."

"You lie," the man says, walking up quickly and shoving the gun against his neck, the metal boring into his flesh.

Closing his eyes, Boyd forces his voice steady and says, "I don't. I've been through my own spiritual journey, been through the deepest darkness, and this is what I found at the end. This is _my_ understanding. And I didn't need to suck anyone's dick to get it, either." Although, in a sense, maybe he did, but this asshole doesn't need to know that. 

There is no longer anything calm about the man's demeanor. He takes a bottle from his pocket and opens it, shaking out a tiny yellow pill. He holds it up, puts his gun to Boyd's head and says, "Open your mouth and take this, or I will show you God's wrath."

Boyd opens his mouth, and the man shoves the pill into his throat with his filthy fingers. He almost gags, but swallows it anyway. 

"Now you may witness the power and beauty of our Communion, and weep for the loss of your own salvation, false prophet. Your lies will not save you from the coming tide of God's righteous fury."

 _Jesus fucking Christ,_ Boyd thinks. _This dude should pass the bucket around, he'd make a goddamn fortune._

Boyd recognizes the sound of Raylan's car immediately, as it pulls up out front.

"Who is that?" the man asks.

"I imagine that's Raylan," Boyd says mildly, beginning to smile despite the circumstances. _Raylan_.

"The Marshal," the man replies.

"Sheriff now," Boyd says. "There's no way out of this for you. If you want to live, put down that gun and walk out of here with your hands up."

Moments later, Raylan's voice comes over a bullhorn and echoes that warning, almost verbatim. 

"Though we may die, we will die as one and be saved." He walks to the sofa and tells Loretta and Chris to get on their knees. 

"Don't," Boyd shouts at them. "Do not do that. You don't have to." He's definitely not feeling quite right. He's jumpy, and can't get his breathing properly under control. He pulls hard at the tape, his sweat-slicked wrists sliding a bit.

The man turns around to stare at him with eyes that look like they're seeing something far more terrifying than a thin, middle-aged man tied to a chair. He looks like he is truly seeing the Devil.

"You have no power here," he says, but he sounds less than certain. 

"This is my domain," Boyd says, "and I do have the power. I have the power to cast you out. You're a mere infant, compared to me. Leave this place."

The man levels the gun at Boyd, and Boyd laughs at him for a second time. "You think mortal weapons have the power to vanquish me? Bullets will bounce off my skin, and if you touch me, you will burn like dry leaves in an inferno."

"If you're so powerful, why can you not free yourself, demon?" the man asks, a sly smile on his face. 

"Who says I can't?" Boyd asks. He wrenches his wrists apart as hard as he can. There is an excruciating pain for about three seconds, and then he's free. He launches himself onto his taped-together feet, lunging forward at the terrified man, who blunders back and fires a shot wildly in Boyd's general direction, missing him completely as Boyd falls to the ground.

Raylan comes running in heedlessly after the shot, which Boyd will have something to say about later. "Freeze, asshole!" Raylan shouts, but the man is still staring at Boyd, backing away from him so as not to come into contact with him. "Drop your weapon!" Raylan yells, then, and he does. 

Raylan moves forward, gun trained on him, and kicks the gun away. "Turn around, hands behind your back," he says, but the man just stares at him, wide-eyed. 

"Are you a demon as well? Or just a human acolyte?"

"I'm a cop, shithead, now turn around." He reaches out to shove the guy, who flinches away from him and turns around. Raylan cuffs him, then turns to Boyd.

Raylan kneels down to cut the tape off of Boyd's ankles, peering up into his face. "You okay? What's with them?" he asks, jerking his head toward Loretta and Chris, who have their foreheads together and are running their hands over each other's clothes. 

"I believe that's how you react to severe trauma when you've been dosed with MDMA and nearly mouth-raped by a pseudo-religious cult leader."

"Shit," Raylan spits.

"He forced some on me too, Raylan. Hasn't really kicked in yet. Much."

"Are you serious?" Raylan asks. "Jesus. Well, I sent Matthew to get Emerson, so you can let him know."

Through the open doorway comes Matthew's voice, calling Raylan's name, and Boyd's. When Raylan answers, he walks in, face pale and blood-splattered, carrying his shotgun. Cary Emerson trails behind him with a weapon of his own, a small handgun. 

He passes it off to Matthew as he kneels down to examine the man on the floor. "He's dead," Emerson says after a second's confirmation. He looks around the room at everyone and asks, "Is anyone injured?"

"Nope, just high on E, thanks to this fuckin' asshole," Boyd says. "Well, I might've sprained my wrist, since you ask."

"I figured they were drugged," Emerson says. "You too?"

"'Fraid so," Boyd says. 

Emerson checks out Loretta and Chris quickly, ascertaining that no physical damage has been done to them.

Raylan says, "I'm gonna run him to the station and put him in lockup. I'll take him up to Lexington tomorrow." He looks at Boyd, frowning slightly with obvious concern. "You be alright until I get back?"

"Fine, Raylan," Boyd says, "Jesus, yes, get him the fuck out of here."

Raylan nods quickly, then pushes the bearded man out the door. It occurs to him to ask Loretta what his name is, but he realizes he doesn't give a shit. 

Matthew and the doctor carry the dead man out to their truck, and when they come back in, Emerson is carrying his black doctor's bag. He comes over to where Boyd is sitting on the floor, leaning against the front of an armchair. He sits down next to him and holds out his hand.

"Let's see the wrist, Boyd." 

Boyd holds up his injured wrist and Emerson takes it, gently pressing against the muscles and bones. "Tell me if it hurts," he says. 

Boyd pays close attention to what Emerson is doing, watches his graceful fingers take a roll of gauze from his bag and begins to wrap it around Boyd's wrist. When he starts with the tape, Boyd lets out a little humming half-laugh, and Emerson looks up quickly, eyebrows raised. 

"You got real nice hands, Doc," Boyd says softly. "Like, beautiful."

Emerson looks back down, and Boyd can see him fighting a smile. He doesn't think he should fight that, though. "Thank you, Boyd," Emerson says, and Boyd smiles at him.

"You play piano? Them long fingers, you'd be a natural."

Emerson does grin now, furtively, biting his lower lip. "I took lessons when I was a kid, but I didn't keep it up. Maybe I should pick it up again."

"You should, man," Boyd says earnestly. "I been playing guitar, and I ain't any good, but that's okay 'cause I only play for Raylan anyway."

"Do you?" Emerson says, glancing over at Matthew. Boyd looks at him too, and sees he has a hand splayed across his face, obviously holding in a laugh. He knows it's funny to them, how he's behaving, and that normally he might be bothered by that. He knows that's true, but right now he likes it. 

"Sure do," he replies, "and he sings sometimes, but he ain't any better at that than I am at the guitar. But I don't mind."

"Your wrist should be okay, Boyd," Emerson says. "Nothing's broken, you just want to try to keep it immobilized for a few days, no lifting or whatever."

"Alright," he says, grinning. "No hand jobs until Saturday, at least," he says winking at Emerson, who cracks up. 

Emerson stands and walks over to the two kids, still sitting on the couch, huddled together. "How do you feel?" he asks. 

"I'm thirsty," Loretta says, and Chris nods. "My mouth's all dry."

"That's normal with MDMA, assuming Boyd is right and that's what it is." 

Boyd smiles at the mention of his name, and Emerson looks at him. Boyd likes the way he's looking at him, so he lifts his hand in a greeting, then goes back to rubbing his hands across the tops of his legs. He likes the way the fabric feels. 

"Which I believe he is," Emerson says, turning back to them. "I'll get you some water."

Boyd looks over at Matthew, and he notices the tiny drops of blood sprayed across his face from when he shot that asshole. It makes him look like a fucking badass, and even more like Ash from Evil Dead, and he loves thinking about that because of Raylan for one, but also because the movie was the first one he'd ever seen that didn't seem like every other thing he'd seen.

The blood drops on his face stand out vividly, and almost look intentional, like they were painted on. They look great, really pretty, so dark against his skin. He can't take his eyes off them.

"Boyd?" Matthew says, startling him. "You okay?"

Boyd smiles, feels happy that he asked. He gets up and walks over to him, licks the pad of his thumb, and reaches up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "You've got some blood on you, boy." 

He brushes his fingers through the dark hair at his temples and says, "Got some in there, too." He doesn't lower his hand though, because Matthew's hair is very soft, and very thick, and he thinks he'll keep his fingers in there for awhile.

Matthew is looking at him like he doesn't quite know what to do with him, and Boyd thinks he could come up with a few suggestions, but of course that would be totally uncool of him to say, what with Emerson right there and all. Though who knows, maybe they're cool with that sort of thing. Raylan's not there, though, and he'd never do that without him around anyway. Not that he's ever even thought of such a thing before, so it's probably the drugs, but it doesn't really sound like too bad of an idea, now he's thought of it.

But definitely with Raylan, and he's wishing Raylan was there right now. He pulls his hand from Matthew's hair and walks to the widow, rubbing at his arms. 

"Raylan should be back soon," Emerson says, and Boyd nods at him, gives him a smile. 

"I'm feeling pretty tired," Loretta says, suddenly. "I’m gonna try to sleep."

"Me too," Chris adds, and they get up. 

Emerson puts a hand on her arm as she passes and tells her to let someone know if she starts feeling bad, or really down, over the next several days, as that can be a side effect. Boyd thinks that might not be the only reason she'd be feeling shitty, but he doesn't say that. He walks over and gives her a long hug, and thinks about giving Chris one, but thinks he might be too weirded out for it. They go into their room, and Boyd is alone with Emerson and Matthew. He sits on the sofa where the kids had been.

"You know, Emerson," Boyd says, "I know you got all kinds of questions about me and Raylan. I know you think we're some kinda rare specimen you like to observe in our natural habitat. This is probably the only time you'll get any answers."

Boyd thinks it's funny how he can know that, but feel completely different about it right now. Emerson laughs, though, and says, "I'm not going to take advantage of you having been forcefully drugged in order to satisfy my curiosity. I'll wait 'til we have you over and I'll just get you drunk."

"You're a good man, Doc," Boyd says, smiling contentedly and stretching out all along the length of the couch. 

He feels restless and relaxed all at once, it's the strangest feeling. It's like he's sure everything is fine, and whatever he wants to do will be okay, but he's having a hard time being still, and he wants something but doesn't know what it is. 

Mostly he wants Raylan. He wants to be touching, wants to feel skin and wrap himself around him. He sits up again abruptly and takes a sip from one of the glasses of water on the coffee table. 

Matthew is frowning a little at him, like he feels bad or something, and Boyd thinks to tell him not to worry, but doesn't, because he likes the way it makes his face look. There's a little crease between his eyes that's real nice, and-

"Hey Boyd, what kind of music do you play on the guitar?"

Boyd immediately grins, because he can't ever look at that guitar or think about it without recalling the first time he played it for Raylan, that first night he came back to stay.

"Old country, 70s rock, like that. Whatever he knows well enough to sing and is simple enough for me to figure out the chords." He quirks his eyebrows at them and adds, "Want to hear?

Matthew smiles brightly and nods at him, so he fetches the instrument from their room. When he comes back and sits with it, it's hard to make himself start playing. The finish is so smooth, and the shape is just lovely, like a beautiful woman lying on her side, as he runs his fingers along its contours. It's not until he accidentally brushes the strings that he's brought back to the original purpose of the thing. 

He suddenly feels as if he could play anything at all, but how to choose? He goes with Buck Owens, who his mama had loved, and his daddy had always said sounded like an asshole. He plays soft and careful, strumming awkwardly with his wrapped wrist. "My Heart Skips a Beat" is the song, but slowed down, and he's grinning because he knows Raylan would sound funny singing it, and he wants to hear it. He might not know it too well though, since Arlo had never had much use for music other than Hank Williams, and Raylan had told him that Frances had mostly liked traditional Appalachian songs, had sung them around the house. He said she had a lovely voice, which he had unfortunately not inherited. 

Boyd doesn't hear the front door open, and he's concentrating so hard on getting the song right, singing under his breath so he doesn't lose his place, that he forgets anyone else is in the room. When he finally looks up, Raylan is standing in the entrance to the living room, leaning on the wall and watching him. 

He stops playing immediately and smiles up at him, guitar forgotten because all he wants is for Raylan to come sit with him. "Hey," he says, and Raylan huffs a laugh as he walks over and sits. 

"Don't expect me to sing in front of people, Boyd," he says. "Not unless you got another one of them pills somewheres."

Boyd answers by twining his arm into Raylan's and sinking his face into his neck, taking a deep breath. 

"I guess we're done here," Emerson says, smirking a little. "You need to take statements from us or something?"

"Tomorrow," Raylan says, fending off Boyd's hands as he tries to get them under his shirt. "Matthew, at least, will have to come up to Lexington with me. Probably you both should." He sighs. "Boyd too, and the kids. Where are they, anyhow?"

"Private time," Matthew says, and Boyd laughs. Private time sounds real good right about now. 

Emerson and Matthew leave, and Boyd barely waits for the door to close before climbing up on Raylan. "Let's take our clothes off, Raylan," he breathes into his ear. Raylan shivers, which Boyd thinks is amazing. 

Raylan takes him by the arms and says, "Okay, yeah, we can do that. Jesus, what a day. Come on."

In the bedroom, Boyd can't keep his hands to himself any better than before, and Raylan has to keep pushing him away to get himself undressed. When they're finally naked in the bed, Boyd is momentarily distracted by the way the sheets feel against his skin, it's so smooth and soft but somehow hard too, but then Raylan slides up close to him and draws him in against him, and it's the best feeling, and he smells good too, and his mind is just saying _RaylanRaylanRaylan,_ so he says it out loud, and he feels Raylan smile and hears him laugh softly. 

"I know I'm ridiculous right now, Raylan - God, I love your name, did I ever tell you that? But I'm glad I am because now I can tell you what I want to tell you and I don't care what it sounds like. And I don't care if you say anything back because I can see it coming off you like colors, and I feel it too, it's making me warm and it's so good."

All he can do is slide himself against the man - his man, Raylan told him so, and he remembers the way it felt to hear that, so sweet - and he can feel what it's doing to him. Raylan's hand comes around him and he presses into him harder, and Raylan slides down and dear God in heaven his mouth, and Boyd can't stop the sounds he's making, and there's no stopping anything or even thinking about holding back. 

The pleasure just builds and builds, and he's arching his back up off the bed, and it all comes bursting out of him like a goddamn miracle, and it doesn't even bother him when he thinks _Communion_ even though it probably should, because this is the true meaning of it, both of them wanting the same, not like a gift to be bestowed but to be shared. 

He's almost crying with the joy of it, and he's saying "I love you, I love you," as Raylan comes back up to him, and there's still more because its his turn now, and he fills himself with Raylan, his smell and his taste and his utter fucking beauty, and Raylan's hands are in his hair, his fingers rubbing on his scalp which feels so good it's like he's coming all over again, and when Raylan finishes he takes all of it and wishes for more. 

Raylan holds him tight after, as if he might float away like a helium balloon, but Boyd knows he won't. He's grounded now, he's in for the long haul, he's signed up for that shit, and he laughs at himself, at both of them, at how it took them two years to say what it meant, to use the right words. 

His skin feels exposed, open, not in a bad way but in a wonderful way that's just this side of too much, and Raylan is sliding his mouth across his shoulder and all he can manage is to pull in a shuddering breath and release it in a long, low moan. 

"Can you eat something?" Raylan asks. 

"No, I don't think so. Or, I don't really want to. Oh, but I brought home cinnamon rolls, you should eat some. Just leave me some for later."

"Do you want to sleep?"

"Can't see doing that yet either, I just want to be in here with you. Go get the food and come back. Maybe you could read to me."

"Alright," Raylan says, kissing him on the cheek before disentangling himself. "Be right back."

Boyd hates the feeling of separating himself from Raylan, and he bunches the sheets in his fists until he comes back with the little tin of rolls, already chewing on one. 

"Goddamn," he says around the food in his mouth.

"I figured," Boyd says. "They smell amazing. Almost as good as you, baby."

Raylan laughs and slips into bed next to him. Boyd puts his head on his pillow and reaches behind him for his book. "Read. Start at the beginning, I don't want to space out and miss anything new."

"Why do you want to hear what you already read?"

"I just want your voice in my ears all the time, Raylan. Ray-lan... God, why do I love that so much?"

Raylan stares down at him for a moment, then leans over and kisses him. He says, "I don't think I could take you being this cute too often, darlin'."

Then he opens the book and begins reading, " _The beet is the most intense of vegetables. The radish, admittedly, is more feverish, but the fire of the radish is a cold fire, the fire of discontent not of passion. Tomatoes are lusty enough, yet there runs through tomatoes an undercurrent of frivolity. Beets are deadly serious._ " He stops and looks down at Boyd, who has a rapt expression on his face. "What the hell kind of book is this, Boyd?"

"Magical realism, to be exact, but really it's pretty much its own kind of thing, but if you give it a chance, I think you'll like it. Or you won't, but just keep reading, alright?" Boyd curls himself into Raylan's side and closes his eyes. 

He doesn't sleep, just listens, and when Raylan finally stops, he says, "I could maybe eat something. I think I should. I don't want to eat the rolls though, I doubt I'll really be able to taste it much."

"I'll find you something," Raylan says, and comes back quickly with a loaf of bread and a bowl of tiny wild strawberries Loretta had picked the day before. 

Boyd's not hungry, but he forces himself to eat, and then Raylan reads some more and after some time, he gets a little tired, sleepy and wrung out. He drifts off to the sound of Raylan reading Tom Robbins and the feeling of Raylan's hand in his hair. 

It's nearly a month later when Raylan and Boyd drive over to Loretta's house, which is what Boyd is determined to call it, how he wants to think of it. Loretta's, not Ava's, and also not Loretta and Chris's. Whatever happens between them, the house belongs to Loretta now, and Boyd had made sure they both knew it when he handed over the keys. 

He and Raylan had both helped out a lot, chopping down the chest-high grasses around the house, making repairs, in one case removing a dead possum from under the back stairs.

When Boyd first told Raylan about it, Raylan had frowned deeply, asking if he was sure, saying they could find another place. Boyd had shaken his head and smiled, and said, "Houses are for the living, Raylan. The dead don't need 'em. Anyway, if I may speak for Ava, she'd probably like seeing Loretta in there."

"I think so too," Raylan says. "But what do you think she'd make of us?"

Boyd laughs loud, his face breaking into a huge grin. "Now that, I could not tell you. Maybe she'd think we deserve each other."

"Oh please," Raylan snorts. "She loved you too much to realize what an asshole you were. I kept trying to tell her, but you know she never fuckin' listened."

"No, she never did," Boyd replies, smiling out the window.

"I'm glad," Raylan says, reaching across the truck seat and finding his hand. 

Chris greets them at the door and shakes both of their hands, like the man of the house, which is sort of cute. The house is gleaming clean, and it's obvious they went through a lot of trouble for tonight. 

"Can I get you guys a drink?" Chris asks. "We have, well, it's some kind of whiskey anyway."

"Absolutely," Boyd says. "Raylan might need more than one, considering what we're eating for dinner tonight."

"I told you, it's fine," Raylan says, his jaw set. "I just had to get used to the idea. Besides, I bet Loretta makes kick ass fried chicken."

As they all walk into the dining room, Chris says, "Yeah, thanks again, by the way. That was really generous of you. I can't freakin' wait, I haven't had fried chicken in so long." He hands them their drinks and pours one for himself. 

"We should go in and say hey to Loretta," Raylan says. 

She's working over a small electric cook top, plugged into a mini-generator. Boyd smiles, because they really have put a lot into this dinner if they're using up gas and trading for decent whiskey. 

She smiles over at them and says, "Hey," smiling almost like she's nervous. But of course she would be, she's eighteen and hosting her first dinner party at her very own house. That's some kind of big deal, Boyd reckons, even if it's just the two of them. She'd said that next time she wanted to have more people over, but this time she just wanted it to be them. 

"The house looks great, Loretta," Boyd says. "Even nicer than when I lived here, unless something special was going on."

She looks at him nervously, like she's not sure how to respond. When she'd first started to move in, Raylan told him that she came to him to ask what to do with Ava's clothes and things. She'd been afraid to ask Boyd, but Raylan had really had no idea what to tell her, so he asked for her. Boyd had said to burn them. 

Maybe Raylan picks up on her unease and decides to distract her, or maybe he just feels like being an asshole, but he says, "I seem to remember it looking pretty nice the last time you and me were here for a chicken dinner."

Boyd glances sideways at him and says, "Let's hope tonight goes a little better."

"You ain't kidding," Raylan replies drily, "my aim sucked that night. Something was distracting me."

Boyd's mouth twitches with a little smile, and he says, "The lady of the house, perhaps."

"Well, that's one possibility," Raylan says, tipping the slightest of winks in his direction. 

"You guys are so weird," Loretta says. "I can't see how it's so funny. Any of it."

"Well, shit," Raylan says, "if you can't make jokes about nearly killing the one you love, what the hell _can_ you joke about?"

She shakes her head and starts taking chicken out of the pan, setting them on a dish towel. "Go on out, then," she says. "Go sit, or role play the scene, or whatever you want to do. Just take the cole slaw and the pitcher of tea with you."

Over dinner, which is delicious, they discuss the news that Kentucky Power is going to be testing the power grid in their area in the next several months. There's temporary work to be had, and possibilities of regular employment in the future, so Loretta and Chris have both decided to apply for jobs. 

Boyd nods, and recognizes it as a responsible and probably sensible thing to do, but he wonders how many people in Harlan and places like it, having learned to live off the grid, might opt to continue that lifestyle. Personally, he'd love a goddamn refrigerator again, and electric light. But he can't see going back completely, reliant on corporations and the government to provide for all of their needs. That's just folly, in his opinion. 

On the ride home, he tells all that to Raylan, who mostly agrees with him. He does say, "You sound awful passionate about that, Boyd. You ain't gonna start preaching survivalist shit or libertarianism or some such thing like you did with The Lord, are you?"

"Please, Raylan," Boyd says, "these are my personal feelings, and I apply them only to myself. I ain't political, you know that. Anymore."

It occurs to him then, that once his days are no longer occupied with the mundane tasks necessary to maintain their food supply and home, he has no idea what he might do with his time. He'd be like some kind of house husband, which definitely won't do. 

He's been silent awhile, which he only realizes when Raylan cuts into it with, "You alright?"

Boyd shrugs. "I can't go back to bein' an outlaw, and I sure as shit ain't going back in the mine. I don't know what I'll do."

"You could work for the power company."

"Raylan, most of those jobs won't be anywhere near Harlan, you know that."

Raylan sighs. "Yeah, you're right. Listen, Boyd, I don't give a shit if you don't do any more than you do now. Take care of the chickens, make your shine, help out the girls - and I'm willing to bet Loretta will have a crop of her own growing soon, she might need help with - and help me out on occasion. Seriously, can we not start worrying about how shit is gonna change?"

Boyd frowns and looks down and away. "I don't want to be dependent on you, Raylan."

"It's your goddamn house we're living in! And even if that weren't the case... Well, why? Why can't I support you? What the hell difference does it make? I don't need much, Boyd. Much less than I once thought I did. I'd love to be able to keep beer cold, but other than than I'm pretty much set."

Boyd grins. "That's what I was thinking," he says. "But still -"

"You'll figure something out, Boyd. You always do. The only way this hurts us is if you let it twist you up and make you start thinking things that ain't true. Don't do that."

Boyd looks at him a long minute, trying to picture this, their thing, their _relationship_ (another word that, like 'partner', grates on his nerves) in a world with television, nighttime baseball, supermarkets; he knows all that shit will be on its way back as soon as there's reliable power, and everything else, all the good and bad that comes with it. 

And with all that, with the return of stability, will come the return of the law - the real law, with some teeth - and very likely the return of people's old attitudes about all sorts of things. When they no longer have to spend all their time surviving, they'll have more time for minding other people's business, judging their lives and finding them lacking. 

Raylan's driving on the dark country road, so he's not looking at Boyd's face to see whatever distress might be showing on there. And that's a good thing, because instead of trying to reassure him some more, he just smiles and says, "That was some good chicken, huh?"

Boyd snorts. "Yeah, it was," he says. "Thanks for not shooting me."

Raylan glances at him real quick and says, "You think she's right, maybe? Is it fucked up that we keep joking about that?"

"I don't know. It's so different now. It feels like that wasn't even us. We both know it was, though, and maybe the jokes are a way of running from it."

Raylan nods. "I think we're about as far away from that night as it's possible to be, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes," Boyd says simply. "Maybe I just like the jokes because they freak people out, a little. They add to our mystique." He makes an evil grin, and Raylan laughs at him. 

"Then, by all means, let's keep 'em coming."

They pull up to the cabin, and Raylan shuts off the engine, but doesn't get out right away. He unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over to kiss Boyd. "Stop worrying about shit. Just stop. You're gonna wear me out with it."

"I'll wear you out, boy."

Raylan just grins at him, and they go inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Elk Creek, Virginia is a real place, but I have never been there. I picked the name from a map because of its location in relation to Harlan, and that is all. I'm sure it's perfectly lovely, and that they will come through the apocalypse just fine.


End file.
